


Operation Doomth Spurt

by SJD_Caved_to_Fandom



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: GIR being GIR, Gen, High School, dubious plans of doom, nonsensical insanity, sciency inventions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2020-10-01 22:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 59,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20423744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SJD_Caved_to_Fandom/pseuds/SJD_Caved_to_Fandom
Summary: It's a high school adventure in a world where earth has a strange effect on Zim after three years, the Tallest have a long way to go to be any sort of trustworthy, nemesis is another name for best friend when other aliens and maniacal humans try to take over the world, and where teen drama meets the kind of tired apathy only adults should feel.





	1. The Beginenning

Without so much as a courtesy knock on the rectangular purple door of the misshapen green home, Dib barged into the secret base of his nemesis; a scowl plastered on his face and a sleeping bag tucked under one of his arms.

“HIiIiIiI!!!” GIR clunked towards the door, smile plastered on his face. “Where’s my baby?”

Dib rolled his eyes, tossing the sleeping bag onto the miraculously grime-free couch and slinging his loaded backpack off of his shoulder. He readjusted the long-sleeve blue flannel shirt that had replaced his trench coat over a black shirt with the word “Meh” over a (-_-).

“You better not have stolen another baby,” he mumbled as he rooted around in the bag. “I’m not helping Zim out of that one again.”

He produced a metal capsule from his backpack and unlocked it with a series of twists and clicks. Soon, the pill shaped object possessed limbs and a face and sprang to life.

“EDA, online and functional,” the robot announced in a limited and stilted voice.

Dib sighed. “Still needs work. Okay, you can go play with GIR once he tells me where Zim is.”

“He’s downstairs,” the defective SIR unit said with a shrug. His voice ramped up as he grabbed EDA’s hand. “Let’s go play find the pig!”

The bots disappeared into the kitchen and up in the pipework of the house as Dib stomped towards the blue trashcan elevator.

“ZIM! GET UP HERE OR I’M COMING DOWN AFTER YOU! AGAIN!”

A series of crashes and bangs rose from bowels of the Irken lair before Zim sprang through the floor beside him.

“DIB! What is the meaning of your INTRUSION?” he demanded, staring up the six-inch size gap between them before thinking better of the situation and raising himself on the long spindly legs from his pack.

“Like I said on the phone, I need to study for tomorrow and I can’t do that with Clembrane breathing down my neck and my dad’s stupid science ‘friends’ taking shots at me every few minutes from their floating head screens.” Dib threw up his hands in annoyance, starting to pace in small circles around and between Zim’s metal appendages. “And, of course, Gaz had to bail on me the one night I could have used her help keeping the house quiet. I didn’t even know she knew Suzie well enough to go over for a sleep over! But APPARENTLY she does and just left me behind with the idiots that wouldn’t believe what their own eyes see even if we had fully crashed through the Florpus!”

Dib let out a growl, balling his hands into fists as Zim extracted himself from the teen’s warpath.

“I thought your stinky human master stopped with the whole calling you crazy thing,” Zim said, landing on the floor and crossing his arms over his black t-shirt printed with a traditional alien saucer and the words “Get in loser”. Dib had gotten it as an ironic gift after a particularly sound victory, and Zim had incorporated it into his disguise over a maroon long-sleeve shirt along with a handful of other tees GIR had been happy to help him select, out of spite, of course.

“Ugh, he has,” Dib whined. “He still doesn’t believe anything I say, even with Clembrane, the sky waffles, the attack of the bird people from Zeta 73, or the fact that we spent all last summer fighting with mech bots on live television!” He stopped pacing, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “But… he was trying to get the others to shut up. I just can’t deal with that while I’m trying to study for the test tomorrow.”

“We have a test tomorrow?” Zim cocked his head to the side.

The sound of Dib’s mind cracking was audible. His entire form tensed like a snapped rubber band and his head ground around to stare, hollow eyed, at the other. “Zim,” his voice was deceptively calm. “You’ve been studying for the most. important. test. in. our. eight. grade. lives. Right?”

The look of cluelessness sold him out. “Of course, I have! What do you take me for, some kind of pathetic no-study worm? I’m perfectly ready for the test… eh… When did you say it was again?”

“TOMORROW!” Dib screamed as is eyes rolled up towards the heavens in instinctual pleading. “HOW could you FORGET that the biggest standardized test, the one that’s going to set in motion a spiral of events from our high school prospects to our college attendance to any chance of a good job?!”

“I mean Zim doesn’t have to worry about those things,” the invader said.

“OH, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” Dib pointed an accusatory finger, teeth barred. “That’s your plan then, isn’t it? You’re going to try failing the test so you can get away from me for four years. You think you can be rid of me that easily?”

“Four years? How long does your planet’s infernal education program last?”

“I’m not telling YOU that! You’re going to have to suffer through it like the rest of us!” Dib started power walking towards the living room. “And step one is going to be tonight! We’re going to study ALL NIGHT if we have to! We have to get at least 96% in order to qualify for…”

Dib’s voice grew faint as he reached his backpack and began to rummage through it for his textbooks and notes. Zim eyed the elevators in his kitchen, inching a step towards them.

“And if we don’t get in? That’s just going to guarantee that I’ll never get the respect I deserve after years of working to keep your doomed invasion plans from succeeding!” Dib reentered with an impossible stack of books and loose-leaf papers. He let the mass fall on the table as he ranted. “And if that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve been tracking some new alien signal and I can’t tell you what it means yet but if it’s another planet snatcher deal or those stupid Catopus borgs again, I’m going to freaking lose it! WHY DON’T YOU HAVE ANY POOP COLA?”

Dib slammed the door to the fridge closed as Zim stood by, silently letting the rant continue with a horrified look plastered over his face. Dib turned back to the living room.

“I think there’s emergency coffee in my first aid kit,” Dib said. “I’m gonna make it, then we’re going to sit down and study because you’re coming with me whether you like it or not! You hear me, space boy? And when we get there, you’re going to help me make a good impression because if we screw that up and wind up being the school losers, Gaz is going to string us up by our feet and…”

Escaping seemed too slow of a solution to the situation he was in. As Dib stomped back into the kitchen, emergency coffee in hand, arms flailing, Zim called forth his hand-held control panel from his PAK. Three options appeared on screen: eject Dib, tranquilize him, or message Gaz to see if she could talk him out of his rant.

A gloved finger hovered above the tranquilizer option as his eyes lingered on messaging Gaz when his communication device went off back in the front room of his house.

“You keep making coffee and losing your puny human mind, Dib-stink. Zim will deal with you after his call!”

Scuttling out to the dark pink television screen, Zim ordered his computer to display the call.

“My Tallest?” Zim couldn’t contain the questioning in his voice as his leaders contacted him of their own accord. “You have contacted Zim?”

“Yeah, we can hardly believe it either,” Tallest Red said.

“What’s all that yelling going on in the background?” Tallest Purple asked.

Dib could still be heard slamming the fridge and cabinet doors and tossing chairs around the kitchen as his tirade continued to no one in particular.

“Oh, the Dib-monkey is going crazy again,” Zim said with a shrug before his eyes went wide and he pressed himself forward towards the screen. “But tell me, what do you desire of Zim?”

“Well…”

“TELL ME!”

The knee-jerk response to three seconds of silence wound up cutting Red off. He made a point of waiting five agonizing seconds before trying again.

“Well, in light of the recent improvements in your behaviors,” Red said.

“And your annoying refusal to die,” Purple added.

“Yes, your slightly less Zim-like behavior and your refusal to die, we decided that we would give you a chance to prove that you’re not completely worthless to the empire.”

Zim’s antenna twitched and his jaw dropped. “You are?” He quickly tried to squash the unabashed awe in his voice under a salvo of self-praise. “I mean, of course you are! After all, I, ZIM, am the greatest mind on Irk!”

“You’re not on Irk, Zim,” Red pointed out, a tinge of regret coloring his voice.

“And you’re not allow to be there until AFTER you’ve worked out the problems on these plans,” Purple said. “You on the home planet with malfunctioning equipment is a… health hazard.”

“Right,” Red hit a switch which transferred thirteen manila envelopes of plans to the earth-bound invader. “All of these plans are for weapons and exploration tools. The problem is no one here can make them work without being all explody. Since you were originally programmed for science before the _incident_, maybe you’re crazy enough to spot what went wrong.”

“Or maybe your crazy nemesis can if he gets ahold of them,” Purple added.

“Zim doesn’t need Dib’s help! I will make you proud, my Tallest! You will not regret laying this monumental task on the shoulders of ZIM!” He clutched the folders to his chest as he beamed at his leaders.

Red and Purple shared a timidly optimistic look.

“Well, we’d better leave you to it, then. Call us once you get the first one done and…” Red’s voice cut off as GIR and EDA entered the room, zipping across the background.

His eyebrow quirked and he shot another glance at Purple who had a similar look of confusion.

“Zim… did your GIR unit get… smaller?” Purple asked.

“What kind of question is that?” Dib made an appearance, apparently burned out on his rant. “It’s been like, three years, of course Zim got taller. Do you aliens not know how growth spurts work?”

All three Irkens seemed shocked into silence at the suggestion.

“He’s had to re-order his uniform like, twice now,” Dib continued. “And he still only wears in when he’s being nefarious now.”

“Well, that’s noted,” Red said. “Anyway, until those things have been tested, don’t bring them anywhere near us. Okay. See you whenever.”

The call ended abruptly, Zim still clutching the folders and staring at the screen.

“Well, that was weird,” Dib said. “But whatever, let’s study.”


	2. The Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The test scores are in and the race is on to meet expectations.

“Now remember children, your answers on this test will set in motion the success or failure of the rest of your puny, miserable lives.” Ms. Bitters set a test on each desk behind a blinder. “On your desks you will notice there is a government issued anti-cheating screen. Not only is it designed to obscure your view of others, but it is fitted with a face and arm tracking camera rigged to explode if you so much as glance at anything other than your paper and your approved calculating tool. If you cheat, you’ll earn NOTHING!”

Whines and gasps left the students who had never managed to get used to the harsh words of the teacher who had followed their class from the sixth grade to now due to a competing darkness in the grade below them.

“And you may begin,” the spindly teacher barked, sending a score of pencils crashing to paper as students began to regurgitate remembered information onto the page.

Sweat trickled down Dib’s brow as he filled bubble after bubble on his scantron sheet. The test wasn’t nearly as hard as fighting the OVERWHELMING urge to spy on Zim during the test. His caffeine addled mind was not fully convinced the alien intended to keep his promise to take the test seriously.

_He’s probably going to blow it, waste our whole night, and spend the next months planning gloating postcards to send me each time he plans one of his stupid evil schemes._

_WHY is there so much human history on this test?_ Zim glared at the page on his desk, practically holding his head still as he fought against trying to scout for the answers. _A mighty Irken warrior like myself doesn’t care who founded this stinky country! Zim doesn’t even know who founded Irk!_

The time for the test passed faster than anyone would have liked, and Ms. Bitters collected each bubble sheet and fed it into the auto-processor located on her desk before passing back their grades and dismissing class.

“I only missed two questions,” Dib said proudly. “I still have a ninety-nine percent! That’s more than enough.”

“Ehm, how many percents did I need to earn again?” Zim asked as the boys waited for Gaz to join them on the stoop of Skool.

“A ninety-six,” Dib said, his stomach sinking as he bent over to look at Zim’s test.

“Oh, good, Zim scored a ninety-seven. Your puny earth history is confusing.”

Dib let out a sigh of relief before he scanned over his answer sheet. “I missed one in literature, which who cares, and one in… SCIENCE???”

The shout almost made Gaz pass the boys entirely and make her own way home. Almost.

“No no no, I can’t have missed a question in science,” Dib said, looking through the test booklet to find what had went wrong.

“Calm down, Dib, it’s one question,” Gaz, always the practical one, said. “Dad had two science related felonies by your age and he still got into Tesla High School for the Dubiously Gifted.”

“Yes, relax Dib. Even the brilliant Zim missed two of your planet’s sciency questions.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Cause it doesn’t,” Dib spat as started reading through the questions.

“If you’re going to do that, then at least walk,” Gaz complained. “The longer we stand here the longer I have to wait for pizza night.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dib started walking forward, face still planted in his test.

It was a perilous walk, Zim and Gaz taking turns prodding Dib in the right direction as they headed towards their block.

“Here!” Dib declared, stopping a few streets from Zim’s base and pointing to the questions. “I missed this one! At what point do the paths of space and time merge? I answered C but it’s saying it was A!”

“Hmm…” Zim looked at the answer and down at his own sheet. “Well, that’s preposterous! C is absolutely the correct answer! These dookie-brained morons made their test wrong!

“Ugh, it’s not that,” Dib said as he started walking again. “I remember from the textbook now that A is what human scientists think right now. I was so focused, I forgot I’ve been using alien technology.”

“I don’t know what your problem is, you’re both going to have the best portfolios on their submission table,” Gaz said as they approached Zim’s door.

“What is this… portfolio of which you speak?” Zim asked.

“It’s a collection of our past scientific inventions and projects so they can see if we’re smart enough to get in,” Dib said. “We just have to compile enough to cover the last few years so it looks like we’ve always been busy.”

Zim rolled his eyes as he led the way into his base. “Zim doesn’t have time for all this nonsense. Perhaps not even for your elevated school! My Tallest expect results on these projects, and Zim refuses to let them down!”

“It’s not any extra”

“Who wants PICKLES?” GIR crashed into the room, large pickles on sticks raised high above his head.

EDA followed closely behind. “I ensured the PICKLES were SAFE for consumption.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks,” Dib took the offered food before continuing. “It’s not any extra work, we just have to make sure it’s all in English and doesn’t include anything too… alien.”

“That sounds like a lot of work to me,” Zim accused, squinting at Dib as he pulled off his wig.

“Well, you sound like a lot of LAZY to me!” Dib shot back.

“HA! Insolent worm! Your puny species is the one who lays unconscious for an entire work shift every night!”

“I don’t need sleep, Zim! I won’t sleep until our applications have been submitted if I have to!”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“SILENCE! Do not question ME!”

“Make me!”

With a high-pitched battle cry, Zim launched himself across the room and squarely into Dib’s chest, bowling him over as a reflexive hook caught him in the jaw.

Gaz rolled her eyes at the display, helping herself to Zim’s ignored snack portion and flipping through the files splayed out on a table in front of the gigantic tv blasting the Angry Money Show.

“Oh no, Zim’s fighting with Dibs again,” GIR said, tears forming in his teal eyes. “They’re the bestest friends! It’s so sahahahad.”

The robot buried his face on the shoulder of EDA who pat gently on his back.

“Good thing I gots money!” Instantly recovering from his misery, GIR produced a handful of dollar bills and assorted coins that he began tossing at the sparring duo as they rolled around on the floor. “WOOHOO!”

SPACE TIME FIELD READER

The title caught Gaz’s interest and she opened the folder. Inside, the blueprints showed designs for a small device that could read both time and space as a fluid field.

“Hey,” she said over her shoulder at the boys.

There was no response save for continued quips and yowls of pain.

“HEY!” she shouted, causing the air to quaver with unrestrained energy as the fight ground to a halt, fist of collar and teeth on arm. “One of these projects is literally the solution to both your problems. It’s a reader than can show the interception of time and space. That gives Dib a reason for missing the question and Zim a start on his projects so his bosses don’t get mad.”

The boys fell apart and rushed to her side, tearing the plans away from her and scanning them eagerly.

“That just might work,” Dib said. “We just have to back date it in our portfolio to before the test and make sure there’s SOME kind of human way we could have come up with each piece.”

“Yes…” Zim cautiously agreed. “When do we have to submit this… portfolio thing?”

“Not until mid-June,” Dib said. “That gives us about a month to figure out how to get the bugs out so it works and doesn’t explode.”

Zim narrowed his eyes at the paper, lost in though. “Tsk, fine. Zim will agree to do it your way.”

“Good, but Dad’s at work for the night and I don’t want to leave Clembrane alone at the house,” Gaz said. “So, we’re going to our house.”

“And why should we not stay here and bring the clone master along, little Gaz?” Zim asked, straightening himself and scowling.

“I’m not staying up all night: I want to sleep in a real bed. Also, our pizza is going to our house.”

“PIZZA!!!” Gir exclaimed, running over and clinging to Gaz’s leg.

“You have to get your own,” she said. “You eat way too much.”

“Dude, how long have you known her? We’re not winning this,” Dib said, finally fixing his hair from their fight. “Besides, it’ll help us to keep on track for making this one more earthlike.”

Zim slapped his wig back on sloppily with a pout on his lip. “Fine. Wait here! I shall return with some supplies and my moose.”

No sooner had Zim disappeared into the depths of his home did the television light up with an incoming call.

“Should we answer that?” Dib asked.

“ANSWERING CALL!” the computer barked.

“That’s not what I…”

“Oh, look, it’s the humans,” Red’s familiar voice came over the monitor.

“Good. Is Zim nearby?” Purple asked.

“He’s down stairs, I can get him.” Dib said.

“No, that’s okay,” Red said. “How tall are you?”

“Five feet five inches?” Dib said instinctively before thinking better of it. “Why?”

“No reason. Say, how often does Zim sleep?”

“Why would we know?” Gaz asked, both on alert.

“Well, you’re the ones who spend the most time with him, right?” Purple said.

“I think you’re overestimating how much time that is,” Dib answered.

“No, they aren’t,” Gaz replied.

Dib glared at her. “Anyway, I just know it’s not often. What does it matter?”

“How about his eating habits? Have those changed?” Red asked.

_Something’s not right about this._ “Different from what?”

“HUMANS! Zim is ready to go!”

“Out of time. We’ll talk later,” Purple declared.

Before either could ask, the call flicked off. There was no hint that it had occurred by the time Zim entered the room. The siblings shared a glance, but said nothing.

“Don’t just stand there! Let’s move!”

Spurred on by the demanding alien, they pushed concern aside. For now.


	3. Dreaded Cooperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without a world at stake, how are two nemeses supposed to work together? Very quickly if Gaz has anything to say about it.

“Okay so the first obvious problem is that there’s a freaking nuclear reactor cell attached to this laser thingy,” Dib said after he and Zim had managed to deconstruct the crowded and sloppy blueprints.

“Even you humans use nuclear power. I think the problem is the laser cannon being too far away from the snack heater,” Zim insisted.

“Why does a spacetime tracker need a laser cannon at all?”

“Do not question the mighty minds of Irk!”

Dib rolled his eyes before glancing over the plans once again. “I’m not. I’m questioning the mind of Qubert who was so horrifically bad at his job that no one else could even approach where to begin fixing it.”

“You’ve been down her for nine hours and you’re just now starting to talk about the laser cannon?” Gaz entered the workshop in her pajamas; Game Slave 3X already powered on first thing in the morning.

“We would have gotten to it sooner if SOMEONE didn’t resist every step of the way!” Dib said.

“HA! I laugh at your pathetic joke! We would be farther if you would obey my advanced mind teachings!” Zim shot back.

“You keep acting like everything is great when the job is to fix it, which means it’s actually not great!”

“Well YOU keep saying all the best parts are what’s wrong!”

“They’re not the best parts, they’re the exploding parts!” Dib smacked the planner board for emphasis.

“Children, do not fight so much,” Clembrane said as he entered the room. “You’ve been down here for so long! Pwease come upstairs to eat bweakfest.”

There wasn’t any room to say no as the overzealous clone grabbed them by their arms and drug them upstairs to the kitchen table where food bot was waiting. An electronic message from the Professor also waited there, promising that he would be home for dinner that night.

“DIB! What is the meaning of this?”

The big-headed boy flinched, “The meaning of what, Zim?” Utter exhaustion was redefined in the tone of his voice.

“The meaning of you taking all the levers off, Dib!”

Dib looked up from the spreadsheet he was looking over.

“That’s an estimate of how many we’ll need once we get rid of the laser, the fog machine, the heat radiator, and the thing that seems to be a… taser? Who knows, maybe it’s just supposed to spark and look cool.”

Zim scoffed. “Well, it would if you weren’t trying to kill all the funness! The tallest would like lasers and fog and a snack warmer.”

“Not if it blows up in their face!” Dib flailed exasperatedly, his hair limp from a weekend of unrelenting work on the project.

“We can just change it to be not explodey! That’s what they said and we’re supposed to make it so they like it.”

“Can we stop talking about this and get back to work? This idiot strung all the wires together so once I get all the obviously unnecessary hardware out, we’re going to probably make a prototype to figure out what wires from this middle disaster can be cut.”

Zim grumpily stared at the revised blueprints that Dib was drawing.

“You can’t take the spring sphere out,” he said.

Dib rose to his feet and glared down at Zim. “I swear, if you complain about me taking out one more thing, I’m going to dunk your head in a bucket of water!”

Zim pulled out his legs to shift their height dynamic. “First of all, I’ll remind you of the ingenious paste mister that allows me to protect myself from the contaminations of your sky liquid. Second, the spring sphere is what lets the machine read the directional gravity to get the most accurate reading.”

“Oh.” Dib stared at the original prints again. “You know if you were helping instead of whining, I would have known that.”

“If your BRAIN wasn’t so gooey, you wouldn’t need my help at all!”

“Phoo” Dib blew the hair out of his eyes. “Well you’d have blown yourself up by now if it wasn’t for me.”

Dib sat down hard in his seat and started to sketch in the necessary item. Zim continued to scowl as he lowered himself.

“Zim never asked for the Dib monkey’s help. You’re the one who wants me to go to your elevated school so bad.”

“I’m not leaving you here to blow yourself up so close to my house when I’m half a state away trying to learn.”

Zim’s antenna twitched, anger replaced by confusion. “Half a state?”

“It’s like, three hours away,” Dib said dismissively. “It’s not a big deal compared to a different planet but unless Tak’s ship suddenly likes me and I can hide it at school, I won’t be able to just run back home whenever you decide to do one of your hairbrained schemes.”

“I…”

“Are you two still fighting?” Gaz asked, coming down to visit once more.

“We’re always fighting, he’s my nemesis,” Dib said.

“That’s it.” Gaz stormed over to one of the Professor’s piles of abandoned and unfinished projects and began to root around.

“What is the little Gaz doing?” Zim asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

Gaz slapped a timer set for three days on the counter and held up a ticking sphere.

“Since you can’t seem to work together like normal nerds, I’m going to help this along. This is how long you have until this bomb goes off. I’m going to plant it at the Taco Loco and I’m not turning it off until you finish that project.”

Both boys let out a cry of protest.

“Gaz! People eat there!” Dib confirmed helpfully.

“GIR eats there,” Zim said. “He’ll scream for a year if his supply of burritos is cut off!”

“Then you two had better shut up and finish it,” Gaz said as she turned to leave. “Oh, that’s also when Dad gets back from his conference and he says if you haven’t slept by then, he’s giving you another shot.”

“But I don’t want a sleepy shot…” Dib looked deflated for a moment. “They make me sleep.”

“That appears to be the point, yes,” Zim replied.

“I said I wouldn’t sleep until our portfolios are submitted, especially with you trying to sabotage it at every step. Now start building the shell while I finish the plans.”

Zim reflexively opened his mouth to protest; however, the bratty screams of a burrito-deprived robot snapped it shut just as quickly.

“Give it!” Dib shouted; eyes bloodshot.

“But I wants it,” GIR protested. “It likes me.”

The bot stood on the top step of the second floor of the Membrane household, half of a magnetic power core attached to his chest door.

“The fate of our taco eating lives are at stake! Now give me the magnet!”

“Oh! Tacos! I’m gonna go gets them!”

GIR leapt up, soaring over Dib's head before landing with a squeak and rushing out the door.

“No! EDA! Stop that robot! We only have two days until Taco Doom!”

“Understood.” The slender bot dove in to tackle the racing thief.

GIR jumped over EDA’s head, landing safely and continuing towards the front door. EDA tried vaulting over and GIR slid across the floor. Both EDA and Dib made a third lunge and crashed into each other, spilling into a pile on the floor.

“NO!” Dib cried, reaching out a hand as exploding restaurant workers flashed across his vision. “We can’t have another fast food place go up in smoke! It makes the good ones not move here!”

He let out an anguished cry and slumped onto the floor as GIR jumped for the door handle. A green hand snagged the robot’s arm and pulled him back.

“GIR! Where do you think you’re going without your disguise? Also why is the Dib stink on the floor?”

“He wants his sticky thing,” GIR said. “He’s havins a bad day.”

“What sticky thing? And why do you have half of our battery stuck to your chest?”

“I stole it!”

Zim reclaimed the item. “How many times must I tell you, don’t interfere with my work?”

“But it’s Dim's work,” GIR said while tilting his head. “Youse said I could mess with him.”

“Normally yes,” Zim said. He then raised his voice and pointed at the robot. “But not this time! We are both working on the same thing! You messing with him is messing with me!”

“I understand.”

Zim squinted incredulously at his bubblegum brained companion with his red eyes. “Just put your dog suit on before you leave.”

“Yes sir!” Gir turned red for a fraction of a second while he regurgitated his green disguise and climbed into it.

By the time he hit the floor, all traces of servitude vanished and he ran, blank-faced, out into the night.

Zim pulled the door closed and turned towards Dib who was still face down on the floor. He walked over and nudged him with a foot.

“Are you dead?”

“NoOoOoOo… The magnet…” Dib started to push against the floor.

“I have it right here,” Zim calmly held it out.

Dib repeatedly reached for the item only to miss by a wide margin each time, thumping the floor as he stuck out his tongue in concentration.

“Do you have brain slugs or something?”

“The HUMAN BODY requires EIGHT hours of sleep on a nightly basis for optimal performance. After SEVENTY-TWO hours, humans can display signs of mental strain which can impede motor function, reasoning, auditory and visual function, and inhibit proper bodily functions.”

“EDA! You’re the earth’s defense assistant! You’re not supposed to tell the enemy our weaknesses,” Dib hissed, staring past the device who he was still squishing beneath his body.

“You do realize you would be so doomed right now if we weren’t working on this together?” Zim asked.

“You’ll never win Zim! Even if I have to make sure you succeed, you got that?”

Zim stared down at his wilting nemesis.

“EDA, take him to his room to sleep before his brains spill out because of not me.” Zim turned and began to walk away.

“You bastard!” Dib flopped over as he attempted to swipe at Zim with the arm he was using to prop himself upright.

“Error found. STRENGTH DRIVERS not yet installed. I am unable to comply.”

Zim sighed and walked back over to Dib, pulling him up off the floor.

“Release me!” Dib demanded as he struggled to get his feet under him.

“Grr, hold still or I’m going to leave you to sleep on the floor!”

Extending his robotic legs from his pak, Zim scooped Dib up bridal style and began skittering up the staircase. The human teen mumbled incoherently and twitched like a dying fish in the Irken’s arms before he was unceremoniously tossed onto his bed.

“There. Now sleep like a good worm boy or I’ll find the sleeping shot myself!”

Dib scrounged together his few functional brain cells and managed to latch onto the invader’s arm and yanked him over.

“You can make me sleep, Zim, but you’ll never get me to let you near the project alone!”

“We’re on a schedule, remember?” Zim asked, barely audible as his face was pressed in the bed.

“You haven’t taken this seriously since the beginning. I’m not letting you put the lasers back in.”

Zim flipped over onto his back, trying to reclaim his arm in one fell movement. He failed and grunted as his arm pulled taunt around his chest.

“I always take my Tallests’ demands seriously.”

“I’m talking about school, Zim.”

“Why does this school matter so much? Last I checked you hated going to school. Your puny logic of taking your enemy, who you also hate, with you is stupid.”

“Well, your idea of putting all the Tallests’ favorite pass times in a tool they won’t ever use themselves is also stupid.”

Zim rolled his eyes, a nearly imperceivable action without the contacts in. “I’m sure you know all about what they like, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about, space boy?” Dib tried to sit up but found his body unresponsive to his demands.

“Why did they even mention having a puny human like you help at all? I’ve been trying to get their attention for years and now they pay just as much attention to you, like you rival the brains and might of Zim.”

“I’ve overcome all your schemes so far.”

“Beginner’s luck. Nothing that warrants them calling you personally.”

“They just asked about how much you were growing and stuff.” Dib forgot in his sleep deprived state that he had never told Zim about that phone call. “It’s not like they cared about me specifically or anything.”

Zim pouted, though he looked thoughtful. Not that Dib could see with his eyes that had sealed themselves shut at that point.

“Then why did they act like they wanted you to help me?”

“Idonno,” Dib slurred. “Maybe theywan us todo like with the reclaiming of that one donut shop you three like somush.”

Silence settled and stilled the room. Dib’s grip started to loosen, though Zim winced as he repeatedly squeezed it as he fought succumbing to sleep.

“You said this… high school is a long way away for humans?”

“Yh.”

“What if the other smart kids figure out I’m an alien? Will they try to defeat me too?”

“Not allowed. I fnd you frst.”

“...Fine. Then we’ll start working on the stupid portfolio when you wake up.”

Dib didn’t respond, but his grip finally went slack, giving Zim the opportunity to leave if he wanted.

“I guess I better start training on laying in one spot for a human amount of time since it seems critical to your species.”

A soft snore what his only reply.


	4. Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a waiting game once their applications are submitted. Will the prize be worth the wait?

“In conclusion, due to the DEVILISH TRICKERY of the little Gaz, the mighty ZIM was forced to collaborate with the Dib stink without any immediate threat to my mission. So, if you don’t like that all the fun parts are missing BLAME HIM!”

“Hey, if it doesn’t blow up and competes with what’s on the market, it works for us,” Purple said.

“Yeah so… good job,” Red said, halting before the unfamiliar words.

Zim’s eyes widened; glittering with tearful admiration. After a few minutes of air silence, the Tallest found a reason to cut the call, leaving the awestruck invader to sort his thoughts out on his own. He was saved from his stupor by an insistent Mini Moose bumping repeatedly into his face as a way to beg for treats.

“We’re doing another project!” Zim had announced the very next day as he barged into the Membrane home.

“Yeah, it’s called finish the portfolio, remember?” Dib asked, glancing up from his laptop.

“Huh? I thought we finished that already?”

“We finished back-dating the project but you still haven’t given me the translated files for you mech and the water cannon. It’s enough work for me to translate my files from Irken, let alone having to do yours.”

“UGH!” Zim marched over to where Dib sat on the couch and leaned over. “GIVE IT TO ZIM!”

“Hey!” Dib exclaimed as his computer was wrenched from his grasp.

Zim muttered under his breath as he clicked through the files. Calling an adapted extension from his pak with a USB tip, he connected to the laptop.

“Hmm… Hrg… HA! There.” He handed it back.

Dib flipped through each file, including the requested ones from Zim, and noticed they were all translated.

“How did you do that?”

Zim scoffed. “Of course Zim has a translation program, do you think I do my homework in English?”

“It’s handwritten.”

“FOOL! I use talk to text then write down the translated answers.”

“Huh. Okay, let me submit these then we can work on the next project.”

Sorting through laser cannons, probes, and at least one snack device, the boys decided to dedicate the remainder of their summer to creating the anti-gravity tactical running boots.

“Are these all made by Qubert?” Dib asked as he scanned over the designs down in the Membrane’s home lab.

“Mmmm I dunno,” Zim said with a shrug. “Why?”

“The plans call for the most flammable materials on the space market and have flaming exhaust pipes on the sides. And they don’t even produce exhaust!”

Dib held up the plans, displaying a design less steam-punk and more 40-year-old pimping out the prehistoric sports car he bought on the black market.

“Yegh. Why didn’t they just remove it?”

“Because he wired them into the anti-gravity device and there’s several excess power cells so I can only imagine he rigged the shoes to blow up on purpose if you take the pipes off,” Dib said, slamming the prints back down on his bench. “It’ll probably be easier to start from scratch at this point.”

Zim rounded the work bench and glared at the plans again, tracking wires with his red eyes until dizziness compelled him to look away.

“Son, are you in here?” Professor Membrane called, walking into the room where the boys sat.

They both froze, staring back at the unexpected return of the lab’s official owner.

Despite not having his disguise on, Zim instinctively flattened his antennas to his head as if his wig was on.

_Why are you just staring? Put it on!_ Dib thought in Zim’s direction.

“Ah, if it isn’t the little foreign boy, Zim,” the Professor said with a half wave. “Good to see you again. Did I ever get the chance to thank you for fixing the pudding malfunction with the clone me?”

“Um, yes?” Zim tried to recall if he had any amnesia spray with him, or if he had ever actually invented something like that.

“Excellent! He is a much more tolerable addition to the household now.”

“I didn’t think you got home until the morning,” Dib said, a familiar feeling settling in his gut.

“Well, that was initially the plan,” Membrane confirmed. “However, the president of the Nuclear Fellowship Committee was called back due to an emergency at one of their factories, postponing his workplace standards and safety speech to an unspecified future date.”

Zim and Dib exchanged glances.

“Was it a bad accident?” Zim asked.

“Oh, no, nothing that will cause mutations or zombies, just a little melt down,” he shrugged it off. “So, Gaz tells me you’ve been hard at work preparing to submit your portfolio to the Institute! How is that going?”

“Great,” Dib said, shrugging off any disappointment he may have felt at his father brushing over Zim’s altered appearance. “We actually just submitted them a few hours ago.”

“Wonderful! And you’ve gotten some sleep since your project was finished?”

Dib nodded. “Uh huh, now Zim and I are trying to decide if we should try sorting out these booby trapped anti-gravity boots or if we should just start from scratch.”

“Hmm… that does sound like a pickle. But, tell you what, why don’t you take a break for dinner and you can decide then. You can even bring your friend along.”

“Okay,” Zim said, twitching his antenna and relaxing.

“I’ll go tell Gaz,” the Professor said. “You boys come up when you’re ready. But remember, it’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.”

Membrane disappeared from the lab without any further ado. Silence hung in the air for a moment before Dib pushed off his seat with a sigh and headed to the door.

“So uh, your dad doesn’t use his eyes at all, does he?” Zim asked as he called his disguise out of his bag.

Dib shrugged. “Now you know what I have to deal with! If it doesn’t fit in with his world view, he doesn’t believe me. I don’t even think I’ll bother showing him the reader because he’ll probably think that’s wrong too.”

“Eh, works for me, anyway,” Zim said, contacts and wig now in place.

Dib rolled his eyes and gave Zim a light shove. “Yeah, excellent reflexes by the way. You’re going to do GREAT in a dorm. You’d better hurry up and invent amnesia spray or hope you get a stupid roommate.”

“Psh, Zim has perfect reflexes. Clearly, I knew there was no danger!”

“Sure, Zim,” Dib said exiting the lab.

“Yes, be assured _DIB_! Now where is GIR? I must yell at him for failing to alert me to intruders!”

"HE LIVES HERE!" GIR shouted from somewhere down the hall.

*CRASH! WHUMP!*

Dib groaned as he lay on the safety mat on the grass in the fenced in back yard near the shed he kept his alien paraphernalia in.

“TEesST 392, fail…” he warbled out without lifting his face or opening the motorcycle helmet he wore.

“Grr! Again? Are you sure you’re doing it right?” Zim asked from behind their camera setup.

Dib pushed against the ground with his right arm and flipped himself onto his back. “If you think I’m so bad at this, why don’t you try?”

“Because I have to run the equipment and figure out why you can’t do it right,” Zim said, pressing his hand to his chest.

“That’s it!” Dib sat up in one fluid motion and pulled one of the boots off.

“What do you think your doi… ACK!” Zim shielded his face with his arms as first one then the other boot hurled in his direction. “DO NOT toss your GERMY FOOT STINK at ME!!!”

The germophobic alien swatted his arms while whining before deploying a can of disinfectant spray from his pak and spraying himself, the boots, and anything in his immediate personal bubble.

“Hey…” Dib started before thinking better of telling the anxious mad scientist about superbugs caused by overuse of antibiotics and disinfectants. Instead, he pulled off his helmet and adjusted his hair and glasses while he waited.

Zim hadn’t heard the utterance over his flailing, which gradually calmed as he assured and reassured himself that the biohazard had been eliminated.

“Anyway, as I was saying, CLEARLY YOU ARE DOING IT WRONG!” Zim declared, attempting to gloss over the incident.

Dib new better than to attempt drawing attention back to it. “I’m pretty sure it’s meant to be used with a pak.”

Zim looked over at their plans on the display board they had wheeled out of the laboratory. “They shouldn’t. We didn’t plan for that in our design and all we kept from the original was the magnetic gravity discs.”

“Dib! Zim!” Professor Membrane emerged from the house into the yard with Gaz in tow and two large, white envelopes in his gloved robotic hand. “Your letters from the Tesla Academy have arrived.”

Dib sprang to his feet and sprinted towards the house. Zim was caught in the rush and hurried after.

They both stared at the thick and embossed envelopes for a moment before tearing into them and pulling out the stack of papers inside.

“We got accepted!” Dib cheered.

“Of course, no one can deny the might of Zim! And the Dib’s uncanny ability to keep up!”

Dib was too excited to care about the jab, flipping through the notes on their portfolio, the required class schedule for freshman year, the campus map.

“What did the roommate word mean again?” Zim asked.

“It’s the person who you’re going to share a room with in the dorms. I’m sure you’ve had a roommate before during at least ONE of your training programs,” Dib said, casually dropping more subtly blatant hints that Zim was a trained soldier in front of his dad.

“ACTUALLY, we had bunk houses,” Zim said. “So is the roommate slot SUPPOSED to say Dib?”

Dib felt like he detached from reality for a moment before flipping to the dorm information page of his welcome pack as well. There he saw, in permanent black typeface, the name Zim...

“You put your last name down as Invader?”

“Irkens don’t have last names, only job titles.”

“Why didn’t you say something? I was already helping you fill it out, why didn’t you tell me to help you make a better last name?”

“NONSENSE! I already use that name to earn earth currency and they needed work history,” Zim pointed out. “You don’t expect me to draw attention by altering it now, do you?”

Dib stuck out his lower lip in a pout as he narrowed his eyes, unable to contest the validity of his plan.

“He’s got a point,” Gaz said.

“Yeah, okay,” Dib admitted at last. “Still, why did they decide to make us roommates?”

“I have to spend all year sharing a tiny sleep space with you? You’d better keep all of your squiggly human parts on your side.”

Dib recoiled. “We’re not sharing a bed! Just the room.”

Zim waved dismissively. “Yes, yes, the preparation videos lied.”

All three members of the Membrane family looked at Zim incredulously.

“What high school movies are you WATCHING?” Dib asked.

“Uhnnuh,” Zim vocalized while shrugging. “Whatever GIR picked up from the movie box.”

Dib facepalmed. “You’re going to show me later, then we’re gonna watch something semi-accurate. Also, you need to figure out which one of your pets is having accidents because I’m not going to play dodge the dookie every morning!”

“GIR isn’t a pet! Also, how do you know it isn’t EDA making the messes?” Zim pointed accusingly.

“I haven’t installed a functional tongue or emotional responders yet is why.”

“Would you two stop fighting like Zim hasn’t been living here for the last month and let me watch you run into the wall?” Gaz said, glaring up from her game.

The argument petered out as quickly as a flipped switch.

“Oh, and remember,” Gaz’s eye cracked open and pinned them both. “If you two mess up my chances at being taken seriously at that school, I really WILL blow something up. With you two inside.”

The boys swallowed hard and stuttered out acknowledgement.

“Now, now, Gaz, a little competition is good for growing minds. Why, I remember my first rival, Samson Francis.” Professor Membrane placed his hands on his hips and had a faraway look in his eyes. Or at least they assumed he did beneath his glasses and half-obscured face. “Yes, it’s a shame he hurled himself into a volcano trying to prove his theory on mind-powered invulnerability. Never found another scientist quite as mad as that one. Anyway! To celebrate your success, why don’t you boys follow me down to the lab where I can show you the REAL science tools. Maybe you’ll find the answer to your current conundrum?”

“Sure, why not?” Dib said. “Might as well.”

“I CALL CARRYING THE CAMERA BECAUSE I’M NOT TOUCHING THOSE BOOTS!” Zim cried, rushing over towards their set up.

Dib rushed off behind and the Professor seemed to smile fondly.

“How about you, sweetie? I know you’re not in high school yet, but would you like to come down too?”

“Nah, I can only stand so much of those dorks. I’m going to wrestle the TV remote away from that robot and I’ll tell the chef bot to get started at 5:30.”

Gaz gave her father a side hug before disappearing into the house as the rowdy duo came storming back.


	5. Late Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dib's nerves are getting to him before the big move. Does he have a reason to be scared?

Three days were left until move and Dib found himself counting the flashes of light emitted by the few electronics on his desk he had left to pack, well into the morning hours.

His head began to pound as the darkness seemed to grow blinding the longer he stared at the dots. With a groan, he turned over to face away from the distraction, going over his mental checklist for the tenth time since attempting to go to bed.

Everything was packed, EDA’s updates were completed, GIR and EDA had been approved as robot companions by the school, Mini Moose and Pig were all set for housesitting duty, they had finalized the boots after Gaz had pointed out all the wrong ways Dib had been trying to use them, and they sent the finished plans to the Tallest.

Dib squinted in the darkness, scowling at an old poster on his wall. Every time he thought about that call, something didn’t sit right with him. Those two Irken leaders spent most of the conversation _whispering_ to each other. They kept _scanning_ their big buggy eyes over both him and Zim. They would freeze and replay different scenes like they were _examining _them for something.

Dib sighed and turned onto his back, covering his face with an arm as his thoughts swirled.

_There’s something going on but…_

Dib shot up in his bed to a sit. His ears strained against the night. He had heard something. EDA was securely in his dock, powered down and charging after the last update. Zim had actually been at his base with all of his pets for the last three nights.

_Maybe Gaz went downstairs for a drink._

*creak*

_Maybe dad had a eureka moment._

*clatter*

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead as he grabbed his stun gun from under his pillow and put on his glasses.

_Maybe Clembrane is making pudding._

*shuffle*

“OR MAYBE SOMEONE THINKS THEY’RE CLEVER!”

In a fluid motion, Dib had tossed his blankets off of himself and into the air, rolled commando style across the floor to his closet, and thrown open the door to point his gun at where he thought the noise was coming from. As the blankets thumped back onto the floor, Dib stepped back from the unoccupied space.

He pulled back his gun into a ready stance and shot a suspicious look towards his bedroom door. Sliding close along the wall, he reached over and turned the knob, staying out of the way as it swung silently open. No one came through, and the noises had stopped. Not one for premature celebration, Dib peaked his head slowly around the door and… nothing.

The teen exhaled and scolded himself for his paranoia as he dropped his weapon and turned around into the waiting arms of two Irken commandos with a sack.

“Hey! Let me go, you little green freaks!” Dib yelled out as he struggled against the fabric of his holding sack. “I’ll have you know my body is a weapon of mass destruction for your kind! I’ll sneeze and spit on you! Zim! This isn’t funny! I’m going to augh!”

Dib let out a grunt as he was unceremoniously upended onto the ground. He scrambled to fix his glasses and get his feet under him while snatching up his ray gun.

As he looked around, his stomach dropped. He was on an Irken ship bigger than a voot cruiser but much smaller than the Massive, and, where he expected to see a prankster Zim suffering from similar pre-move-in jitters, sat the extended forms of the Almighty Tallest.

“You! What’s the meaning of this?” Dib shouted, pointing at them as he rose to his feet.

“Relax, we just wanted to talk and take some measurements,” Purple said.

“Relax? You want me to relax?” Dib asked, his eye twitching.

“Oh boy, here we go,” Red said with a resigned expression.

“HOW am I supposed to relax when I’m getting abducted out of my own house by crazy, intergalactic warlords? Can you answer that, Mr. Space bigshot?”

Purple opened his mouth.

“Because the answer is: I can’t! I can never relax, never let down my guard! Even in the dead of night, the earth lies open to destruction and I, her only defender! And what do you think happens if I relax?”

“I don’t know, but you still got kidnapped even all wound up so it couldn’t really hurt to try it once in a while,” Red deadpanned.

Dib’s mouth hung open. After a silent minute of staring, frozen in his accusatory pose, Dib straightened himself and cleared his throat.

“Yes, well, what do you guys want?”

“First, we wanted to make sure you weren’t lying about your height,” Purple said. “MEASURE HIM!”

Dib jumped at the shout and flinched as three Irkens with their spiderlike legs extended approached him and began to measure him from every conceivable angle. They fell away before he could formulate a proper protest, so instead he huffed with annoyance and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Is this still about Zim growing? I don’t get what you’re so worked up about, he’s grown less than me,” Dib said.

“Yes, but from what we can tell this is a normal part of every human’s lifecycle, correct?” Red asked.

Dib squinted and wracked his brain for what sort of danger they could concoct for the earth by knowing such a fact. With nothing forthcoming, he tentatively answered.

“Well, yeah, unless they have some type of genetic mutation that prevents it.”

“Right, well, growing’s a bit different for Irkens,” Red continued, scanning over the data on the tablet he was handed by the measuring Irkens. “And Zim has done a lot of it.”

“So have you two, and?” Dib asked.

“And, we want to get back to those questions from the other day,” Red said.

“You can’t pretend to be clueless this time either,” Purple interjected. “We know he’s been staying at your house while you worked on those projects.”

“How often does Zim sleep?” Red asked.

“Not very? I don’t know. Sometimes he’ll lay down when I have to sleep to practice being quiet in the dorms and because I still don’t trust him to mess around in the lab without blowing my house up.”

“But you’ve never seen him sleep?” Red pressed.

“I mean, sure a few times I’ve caught him dozing when I woke up but if he’s sleeping more than that, I wouldn’t know, I’m asleep.”

“How many is a few?” Purple asked. “Twice? Once a week?”

Dib’s fingers began to twitch. “I don’t know, maybe three times in the last month? What makes you think I’ve been paying attention.”

“You’re an anxious nerd who’s profiled most of Zim’s actions for the last three years,” Purple replied. “It’s harder to believe you don’t know.”

Dib’s insides jumped, even as his outsides remained stubbornly rooted in place, at the call out.

“Anyway, he’s started eating more earth food, right? His requests for food shipments are way down,” Red said.

“Well, yeah. Once he stopped freaking out about how terrible everything was by virtue of it being from our planet, he started branching out to fit in better. He still doesn’t like grease much, though.”

“Does he mostly eat snacks like what he’s started sending us, or is he able to eat meats and other foods that gave him trouble at first?”

“I said he’s trying to fit in! Do you think humans eat nothing but cheap snacks?”

Red looked sullenly over the top of his tablet. Dib glared back, every earth defender sense on high alert.

“Do you have to be a pain in the ass about this?” Red asked after a moment.

“Do you have to suddenly show up asking stupid questions a year and a half after you got spit back out from the Florpus? Aren’t you busy with trying to reassemble your straight-line empire after being AWOL for six months?”

The atmosphere was tense, many of the other Irkens staring timidly at this alien sassing their trigger-happy rulers.

“Tube talk?” Purple asked, glancing at Red.

“Tube talk.”

“Wha—”

Dib was caught up by both arms by the Irken leaders and pulled over towards where they stood. From the floor of the ship a telescopic metal tube unfurled and hid the three of them from view.

“Alright, now no one can see or hear us,” Red said.

“So? I’m still not interested in giving you any information that could put the earth at risk,” Dib said, folding his arms and scowling in the cramped space.

Red bent his knees and lowered himself to face Dib. “This isn’t about your planet, this is about Zim.”

“Yeah, your planets making good stuff right now, we’re not any more eager to overthrow it than before we knew how many cool puppet shows and snacks you guys had,” Purple added, remaining upright.

“Right.” Red pulled Dibs attention back down to eye level as he supported himself against the wall of the tube. “Anyway, look at this growth chart.”

Dib eyed the line graph on the tablet that was turned to face him. It showed a very steep curve that Dib instantly recognized was wrong.

“What about it?”

“We’re probably wrong on the progression, and that’s what we need to know,” Red explained. “How fast is Zim growing and what’s effecting that growth?”

Dib pinched the bridge of his nose, weighting how much information was safe to betray. “You’re saying that even if you knew the progression, it’s still too fast for the average Irken?”

“Look at the crew, everyone here’s an adult,” Red said. “Of course, it’s too fast.”

“What about that fry cook Zim brags about outwitting, isn’t he like, barely shorter than you?”

“Yes, and he’s a special case which is why it was thought that he could handle someone like Zim,” Red said.

“Okay, so Zim’s in this ‘special case’ category. Why are you making such a big fuss about it? Teenagers grow up and get taller, don’t you have a way to keep track of the genetic trait for tallness?”

“Zim’s the same age as us,” Purple said before Red could answer.

Dib stared up at him incredulously. “What?”

“Zim is the same age as me and Red; we went through invader training with him. Well, the second half after he was kicked out of the science program for killing the last two Tallests with a chaotic lab experiment.”

Another pause.

“How old are you two again?”

“Adults,” Red said. “Very young adults who came into power super early, but still adults. And that’s where the issue lies. When we were at the academy, we were already taller than the others. Zim, on the other hand, hasn’t grown more than six inches since he was a smeet. Until he landed on earth.”

Dib mulled over the idea. “So, you’re saying earth unlocked a part of his genetics that he shouldn’t have had?”

“We don’t know and you’re kind of preventing us from finding out,” Purple replied.

“Wouldn’t that be something you’d keep track of with your big brain database?” Dib asked.

“The last readings from Zim’s PAK, back when we reassigned him as a fry cook after destroying half our home planet, seemed perfectly normal. However, it’s been suspected for a long time that Zim’s PAK is defective, so who knows,” Red said.

“Why should I believe you about any of this?” Dib finally asked.

Red sighed, “I know, I get it. If someone was asking me this crap about Pur, I wouldn’t want to talk either. I think we’ve picked up on enough information to put the pieces together for now.”

Before Dib could question or protest the odd simile, Red ejected a small cylindrical tube from his PAK and handed it over. Dib questioningly cracked open the rigid container and his heart fluttered with an unknown emotion as he saw three full syringes with needles ready to use. He shot an asking glare at Red.

“We don’t know why this is happening yet, or how it’s going so fast, but we know what comes next,” the leader said. “We lived through it. Sometime in the next six months, we don’t know enough to say when, Zim’s going to start having major growth spurts. When he does, you’re going to want to inject him with one of these in his upper arm. You’ll know when it’s time because he’ll be in so much pain, he won’t be able to move.”

Dib was speechless.

“Once the first one happens, let us know so we can make a more accurate estimation of how this is going to go,” Red pushed himself back up to a standing position. “We’ll have you dropped back off at home and talk later.”

“In the meantime, think about this,” Purple said. “Zim’s killed two tallest, destroyed swaths of our home planet, escaped banishment twice, interfered with our operations more times than I can count; if it was easy for us to get rid of him, don’t you think we would have done so by now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for 75 kudos! I'm so excited and grateful to know you're enjoying my story!


	6. Car Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without a human car or licensed drivers to operate one, Zim has to resort to accepting a carpool with the Membranes. Will they survive the trip?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The car trip was only supposed to be the first half of the chapter. Then I got carried away. Enjoy! :) 
> 
> Also, thank you all SO MUCH for 100 kudos! I'm astounded how much love I've gotten from this story. Thank you!

“Let me guess, you still haven’t told him what happened,” Gaz said as she watched Dib load his belongings into the back of the family car.

Dib pushed his box of electronics between the box of gadget parts and the box of alien and cryptid trackers in the rear of the station wagon shaped, insanity powered car the professor had crafted himself. “It’s easy for you to CRITICIZE me Gaz, but it’s not that simple. Zim lost his mind when he found out they _called_ me. No matter how much I say I was kidnapped, that’s small fries compared to the fact that they spoke to me in person.”

Gaz rolled her eyes. “That was also because you didn’t talk to him about it, stupid. Also, this is way more important than some weird side projects.”

“Yeah, and that just makes it worse,” Dib said as he threw in his final duffle bag. “If this is all true and so important, _why_ are they telling me about it and not talking to Zim? He’ll jump off a bridge if they tell him to, so why wouldn’t they just give the shots to him? Or ask him what his sleeping habits are like?”

Gaz sighed in frustration. “I don’t know. Look, just use the brain in that big head of yours to figure out a way to address it before it’s too late.”

Dib narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak.

“Kids! Are you finished back there? We promised to carpool Zim to the campus,” Membrane said, emerging from the house and activating the security system. “We don’t want to be late or we’ll get stuck fighting past the massive throng of mediocre slowpokes and miss the campus tour which will prevent me from displaying my lovely family for that CURMUDGENLY, ANCIENT, UNHINGED teacher Professor K.”

“Coming dad,” Gaz said as Dib pressed a button to close the trunk before they both piled into the back seat.

Zim, energetic as he always was, had his boxes and bags piled on the front lawn when the Membrane family arrived. He was giving a farewell address to his house, moose, and pig over the whining robotic wails of GIR who was NOT happy about having to leave his pink companion behind.

“So, make sure you keep everything locked and I’ll be by on weekends to refill your food supplies,” Zim concluded as Dib approached to help with loading his stuff.

“Ready to go?” Dib asked. “My dad’s in a bit of a hurry to gloat and glare at one of his old teachers.”

“ZIM is totally ready and COMPLETELY prepared. GIR, on the other hand, is not taking this well,” Zim said with an annoyed glare at the robot.

“Hey EDA, why don’t you try calming him down while we load the trunk,” Dib suggested.

“Yes, sir,” EDA said with his new gravely bass voice.

“Bleh, why did you make him sound all,” Zim wiggled his fingers as he attempted to come up with a suitable adjective, “macho buffy?”

“It’s a good voice; patterned after the planet saver in that one action movie we saw last year.”

“Yes, but that when it came out of the big muscular human it sounded less… terrible.”

“Whatever, dude, just help me get these in the trunk.”

EDA made a valiant effort; it could not be denied. He held the screaming robot’s hand, read out useful tips from his psychology data base, and catered to every whim of his hysterical friend; yet, when the trunk was closed GIR’s tantrum had only managed to increase.

“It is not like him to focus on something this long,” Dib said.

Zim grumbled. “He probably forgot what he’s upset about and fell into fit loop. He does that sometimes. GIR!”

The alien marched towards his house to confront the flailing mess of tears.

“Let’s GO GIR,” Zim said. “We are going to be LATE!”

“NoOoOoOOOh. I’m sad!” The garbage-made SIR unit clung onto the door frame.

“GIR, you’ve been sad for _twenty minutes_! It’s time to continue with the mission. Now come on.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“ARE YOU REFUSING YOUR MASTER?”

“No…” the robot whined.

“Good. Then let’s go.”

Zim grabbed GIR’s arm and started to walk away. He soon found himself coming to a halt, turning to see that his robot still clung to the door frame with both hands.

“NOW GIR!”

“No, my piggy.”

Zim changed his hold to grab onto the robot’s legs. “I already told you we’re going to visit pig on the weekends.”

GIR began babbling incoherently as Zim pulled on his legs in an attempt to dislodge him from his vice-like grip of the frame.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dib said, deciding he had witnessed enough of the spectacle.

He marched over and latched on to the robot as well, pulling on his shoulders as the little bot screamed protests.

“HEY! I HAVE AN EXTRA HAM SANDWICH HERE FOR THE FIRST IN THE CAR!” Gaz’s voice rang out across the lawn.

“OoOoooH, ham sammich!”

The crying stopped instantly and GIR released his hold, sending Dib and Zim sprawling backwards into a heap as he squeaked to the car after the snack.

It took a minute and plenty of grumbling and shoving, but Dib and Zim made it off the ground and into the car.

“I thought you were going to sit in the front once we picked up Zim,” Dib said to a livid Gaz buckled into the middle seat of the back bench.

“Nonsense, studies show that the safest place for children is in the back seat of the car,” Professor Membrane said. “WITH your seatbelts on, so make sure your click those buckles.

“If you two so much as BREATHE in my space I’ll hurt you so bad,” Gaz threatened as the boys buckled in on either side of her.

“Right,” Dib said.

“Noted,” Zim replied.

They pulled away from the green house and began their three-hour <strike>torture box</strike> car ride towards their new school.

“I’M HUNGRY!” GIR declared, hanging off the back of the headrest of the passenger seat.

“GIR, you’ve had a ham sandwich, three cans of tuna salad, and a sleeve of crackers in the past hour, give it a rest,” Zim said, resting his head against the window and rubbing at his eye.

“You’ve been messing with your eyes and head way too much. Are contracting some alien disease?” Dib asked, his mind taking mental notes faster than ever before.

“Tch, no. I just haven’t worn my disguise for weeks and they’re so SCRATCHY!” Zim replied.

“There’s anti-itch cream and eyedrops in the first aid kit, boys,” Professor Membrane said as he glanced at his passengers in the rearview. “If I recall, neither should contain those allergen components we isolated.”

Dib fished the first aid kit out from under the seat. It was almost as long as the bench was, filled with more than the typical family would ever have need of. After some digging, they found the items they needed and shoved the rest back under.

The cream was easy enough to apply, even as Zim hesitated due to the unfamiliar brand name. When there was a distinct lack of burning, he moved more confidently onto the eyedrops.

“Grr this isn’t working!” Zim said as his fifth missed drop rolled down the middle of his face.

“You’re supposed to keep your eyes open,” Dib said. “Stop blinking.”

“Oh, yes, of course, you’re a genius of pentagon proportions why didn’t I think of that?”

“Did you mean paragon?” Dib asked.

“I meant ‘Dib shut up.’ If you haven’t noticed my eyes are three times the size of your puny earth holes,” Zim said, trying to keep his lid open with one hand. “BLAST IT ALL!”

“You’re doing it wrong,” Gaz said before grabbing hold of the bottle herself and pushing Zim’s head back. “You have to tilt your head and aim for the middle.”

“UNHAND ZIM’S FACE!”

“Stop squirming.”

“EYAAAH!” Zim screeched as she forced the drops into both of his eyes as he flailed.

“There, you’re welcome, you big baby,” Gaz said once she had applied the medicine.

Zim blinked furiously and started to complain when a series of hacks broke into their conversation.

“EDA NO!” Dib shouted as he pinpointed the source of the noise. “What did you put in your mouth?”

“I shared the stringy snack,” Gir said on the other robot’s behalf.

“What string snack? Did you just put string in here?” Dib slowly pulled the fibers out of EDA’s mouth. “Can you still talk? Did it damage your voice box?”

“Voice box readings: operational,” EDA responded.

Dib’s jaw went slack as he heard the much higher tone escape the robot’s mouth.

“Great, now he sounds like a dweeb going through puberty,” Dib complained.

“It doesn’t sound like you at all,” Gaz said.

“HA! I think it’s an improvement,” Zim said.

Dib shot an icy look across the car, fist clenched as he started to lean forward. “Oh, you know what would be an improvement Zim?”

“Hey!” Gaz pinned Dib in place with a sideways glance. “The bubble, Dib.”

Zim chuckled as his rival sat back, defeated.

“Children, studies show that a driver distracted by noises from the back seat is more likely to wreck their vehicle. Why don’t we try playing the quiet game for a while?”

“What’s the quiet game?” Zim asked.

“Whoever talks first loses,” Dib said. “Think you’re up for the challenge?”

“Of course! I will be the champion of this no talking earth game.”

“Then start already,” Gaz said.

The ride became quiet once more but a static hostility hung in the air. The boys both slouched in their seats, bored and irate for different reasons.

Dib pulled out his phone for the umpteenth time and flipped idly through his apps. A light gleamed in his eye when he spotted the program he had made to control EDA remotely. Bringing up the keypad, he sent the bot a message to sneak up to Zim and deliver a poke to the back of his head.

He fought to hide any signs of mischief as the bot followed through with the instructions, causing Zim to turn around in an attempt to see what had happened. He spotted metal fleeing and new what atrocity Dib had committed. He also knew if the human thought he was defenseless, he was very mistaken.

Dib chuckled to himself as he watched Zim flop back onto his seat with a look of resignation.

_Another victory for the forces of justi- hey!_

The teen wiped his head around as he felt a wiggling press on his swoosh of hair. Nothing appeared to be there, but it was undoubtedly Zim’s doing no matter how calm and disinterested he looked.

Dib resent the message to EDA and settled in to wait. Zim only lightly flinched this time, but careful observation saw him ejecting one of his spider-like legs to snake behind the bench to return the prod.

EDA received a barrage of instructions; poke the head, neck, chin, chest, arms. Zim let out a grunt of indignation, but not a word, and reached out with his limb to return the assault. He managed to knock the phone away and under the driver seat, grinning maliciously as Dib pantomimed indignation.

Their war stopped, but the thought of handing over the victory to Zim soured Dim’s stomach and steeled his nerves. Slowly, carefully, gradually, he stretched his arm behind Gaz until he was _just_ close enough to earn a warning growl and poked Zim in the face.

No longer just a war but a test of bravery, Zim rose to the occasion, gloating as he managed to deliver his return strike without alerting the bubble alarm.

Dib upped the ante, and Zim gave out a silent scream as a spit-wet digit smeared across his face.

Dib’s smile melted away when a pointed, moist finger plunged into his ear canal as Gaz gave them both a final warning shove.

Such measures meant nothing once a war turned into a biological affair, and Gaz soon found herself squished as the boys lunged with soundless cries at one another. No facial structure was spared as the boys poked, tugged and twisted while small grunts and groans of pain and held-in taunts tried to escape.

Gaz attempted to reclaim her space with elbows and punches, but her attacks were lost amid the boys’ own barrages.

“ARE WE THERE YET?” she shouted, startling the boys to a standstill which allowed her to strong arm them both against the opposing doors.

“Yes!” Professor Membrane said cheerfully, pulling into a parking spot and turning off the car. “Come along, let’s get everything carried inside.”


	7. The Grand Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting adjusted to a variety of newness can take its toll.

“Why do freshmen have to stay on the fourth floor?” Dib grumbled while hugging his box of observation equipment tightly as he fought up the staircase. “And why can’t we take the elevator?”

“Now son, the elevator needs to be left open for those who truly need it. You know that,” Professor Membrane chided as he carried a box under each of his robotic arms. “Besides, stairs will provide you with good exercise; increasing blood flow to the brain which will increase alertness and provide better reflexes when handling dangerous projects.”

“Well Zim is going to build his OWN elevator!” the Irken shouted as he struggled with one of his own oversized boxes, fighting against the instinct to deploy one of his PAK’s many functions to assist him. “Whoa!”

Gaz, carrying two duffle bags, pushed on Zim’s back as he threatened to tip over backwards. “Why don’t you just try to make it up the staircase first?”

Zim grumbled under his breath but redoubled his efforts, and soon the door swung open to room 413; home to the boys for the next nine months. As is so often the case in dormitories, the walls were stark white painted cinder block, with a white ceiling, and a grey floor. The wall opposite the door had a standard sized window with grey blackout curtains. There were desks on either side of the window and beds flush against both the left and right wall.

“Why is it so ugly?” Zim asked.

“It’s not ugly, it’s just plain,” Dib said as he sat his box down on the right desk. “Once we get all our stuff set up, stack the beds and desks to make a bunk bed, and maybe a rug and a poster, it won’t look bad at all.”

“Hmm.” Zim sneered his disbelief. “Very well then. We will see if you are correct about the ugliness.”

“Hey! We’re not carrying everything for you. Stop talking and get carrying!” Gaz said, Game Slave in hand as she sat in one of the desk chairs. 

“Why are you sitting?” Dib asked.

“Duh, I’m going to guard your stuff so you don’t have to keep opening the door. You’re welcome.”

Dib rolled his eyes but left the room anyway, knowing Professor Membrane would be ready with a timing lecture if he didn’t get back to the car quickly. Zim was out the door a hair faster, darting his eyes around to all the boxes labeled “experiment”, every oddly shaped mechanical instrument, and the various computers being booted up after being strung back together.

“There are so many different THINGS for Zim to examine and observe,” he said under his breath, tapping the tips of his fingers together diabolically. “A perfect place to continue my mission.”

“Hey, want to not say that out in the open where anyone with an Eves Dropper 9000 from the back of Unethical Science Monthly can hear you?” Dib hissed, elbowing Zim in the side. “Besides, we need to protect our own devices before you worry about looting others.”

“Feh, fine,” Zim said. “But don’t think you’ll stop me.”

“Well, duh,” Dib said. “Haven’t you noticed everyone brought a security system? Half of this is making connections and sharing information, the other half is getting the information from people who don’t want to share anyway.”

“Oh.” The deviousness in Zim’s expression was replaced by idle interest. “In that case hurry up, Dib-stink, we don’t have all day.”

“Zim! What did you put in this box? And why don’t I remember it being this heavy when we loaded it?” Dib asked as he carefully backed up the stairs, supporting their final box.

“Grr, it contains… gek… VITAL components for Zim’s operation. But some GROUNDED robot must be inside and turned off the gravity adjuster!” Zim said as he supported the brunt of the weight.

“Oooo… IT WAS ME!” Gir said, popping out of the top of the box, obscuring both boys’ vision with the box flaps.

“I KNOW IT WAS YOU GIR! TURN IT BACK ON!” Zim fought against the flap.

“Yes sir!” Duty mode activated for a split second before Gir closed himself back into the box.

“Well, at least we can see,” Dib commented as no change was noticeable. “Hey, do you know where EDA-“

A buzzing noise was all that heralded the anti-gravity device being turned back on, causing a sudden loss of weight. The boys screamed as their pushing and pulling momentum sent them falling forward on the stairs, the box flying away from them, skewing Dib’s glasses and causing Zim’s wig to slide to an odd angle.

Dib heard the murmuring first, as he struggled to adjust his glasses and get himself back onto his feet.

“Zim, your wig,” he grunted out between clenched teeth.

Zim shook the sense back into his head and moved his wig back into place before forcing himself up.

“Hey, are you two okay?” asked an older teen, the fourth floor student monitor assistant, Dylan. “That was a pretty nasty fall.”

“Yeah, thanks we’re fine,” Dib said, rubbing the back of his head. “It’ll just be a bruise.”

“How about you?” Dylan asked, bending around to see Zim.

“Oh, yes, I am PERFECTLY fine, no need to worry about Zim who is just as capable of falling up the stairs as any regular human.”

Dib groaned internally as he struggled not to facepalm or smack Zim down the flight of stairs.

“Ok?” The senior raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m Dylan and I’m the Senior Floor Helper, so if you guys need anything, I’m at room 404.”

“Thanks,” Dib said. “Don’t mind him, he didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“First day jitters.” Dylan nodded sympathetically. “A lot of freshmen deal with it, and homesickness. Don’t forget to look at the available resources in your welcome packs. The school is aiming to carve the negative statistics around freshmen by another 25% this year.”

“Will do,” Dib said.

The two squeezed past Dylan and snagged up the much lighter box before rushing past the staring faces that lined the halls and poked out of doorways.

“Why are they all staring at Zim?” the green alien asked as he and Dib dove into their shared room.

“Maybe because you’re being obnoxiously loud and drawing attention to yourself?” Gaz said.

“And we ate it coming up the stairs thanks to you two,” Dib said.

He opened the box and stared reprovingly down at GIR and EDA who sat with wide, innocent faces pointing back up at him among several cubes that were most likely components of Zim’s base sized down for easy storage and transport.

“Yes, well, they had better stop or Zim will wreak DUBIOUS REVENGE!”

Gaz stared at the dramatically posing invader. “Stop. Yelling.”

Zim glared at her, but complied. “Fine. Let’s just set up the security system.”

“There you three are! It’s time for the campus tour!” Professor Membrane barged back into the room from a discussion he had been having with a parent in the lobby. “Let’s go!”

“What? Zim doesn’t have time for a tour! We need to set up our security.”

“Nonsense! Everyone knows that the first week is the grace period for idea stealing. Just lock the door and it will be fine.”

Membrane grabbed Zim by the wrist and pulled him out the door, protesting loudly.

“EDA, GIR, don’t let anyone but the four of us come in okay? But don’t attack anyone, just use the app to alert me,” Dib said as he pulled the door closed.

“Understood!” EDA replied.

“Okie Dokie!” GIR shouted.

The school grounds were pristine, the facilities state of the art, and teachers they met seemed educated and not made of darkness and hate. Sadly, most of these observations were lost under a thick sheen of mortification that even Zim managed to get caught up in.

“So, as you can see, _professor_, I have both a functioning family and a stellar career!” Membrane said to a particularly elderly teacher. “Therefore, your assessment that it is impossible to balance work and a family without submitting to mediocrity across the board is empirically wrong and an insult to all working parents.”

“We’ll see about that,” the grey-haired man, more winkles than anything else, said. “He looks like he has a touch of the crazy eye, not to mention his choice in rivals is questionable at best.”

“Hey,” Dib protested.

“And what is the problem with ZIM? I am a perfectly normal and acceptable human rival so what does the smelly prune man think he’s talking about?” Zim slammed his hands on the teacher’s desk.

“That attitude, for starters,” he said.

“Don’t worry, boys, he’s just terrible at accepting when he’s wrong. Let’s catch up to the others.”

Dib followed his father’s instruction, yet cast one last look back at the teacher. He couldn’t help but feel this class would be a source of trouble sooner rather than later.

Further along the tour, just before dinner, they came to the hall of achievements.

“And here, you can see pictures of our best alumni with their top school projects along with their current or greatest outside successes,” the tour guide explained.

In a gilded case to the center of the room marked “Top 10” is where Dib found his father’s face plastered alongside another teen. One picture showed them holding a trophy together with arms wrapped around each other’s shoulder, the next showed them in a heated laser battle in a laboratory where they apparently accidentally created their first AI program by hitting the malfunctioning computer they were arguing over in just the right manner. From the picture of memorial flowers transposed over a volcano in this other youth’s ‘Where are they now’ photo, it was apparent that this was Samson Francis.

Dib looked up at his dad who stared in silence for the first time on the tour, his brows knit in the way Dib had learned to mean sorrow on the nearly fully obscured face.

“You okay, dad?” he asked.

“Yes, son, just reliving those old days. He was a real rapscallion, that one, but the first person who didn’t think all my inventions were a waste of time or a risk to society,” he said. He placed his arms around both Dib’s and a confused Zim’s shoulders. “The thing about rivals is, if they don’t believe in you, they won’t ever be a challenge.”

“Alright, we’re going to head to the dining hall for supper now before we have to say farewell to parents,” the tour guide said. “I hear it’s roast chicken and baked potatoes today, so you’re not going to want to miss out.”

“I’m nervous about this,” Dib said as they neared the front of the line in the dining hall. “At least when schools serve casseroles you can pretend it makes sense when it’s all mushy and gross. What are they going to pass off as an actual cut of meat and a potato?”

“Why do these human education systems hold food stuffs that humans find inedible?” Zim asked, his face twitching as their turn approached.

“Because they try to keep costs down,” Gaz said.

“One slice of chicken, or two?” the chipper lunch lady asked.

Dib looked at cuts of meat on the tray, astounded by their uniform and clean look. “Um, just one please.”

“And what would you like for your vegetable, green beans or carrots?”

“Green beans.”

Zim, very nonchalantly and without any shouting or overacted decision making at all, chose the exact same things as Dib.

“I can’t believe they found a way to make this look like real food,” Dib said, bending close to his plate and prodding his meal with a fork.

“Dib, don’t slouch at the table,” Professor Membrane said as he sat down next to Gaz opposite the boys.

“If they have pulled some sort of gross, devious plot to trick Zim into eating more school gruel I will make them all suffer the RAGE OF A THOUSAND SUNS!”

“Are you deaf or something, is that why you shout all the time?” Gaz asked as she cut into her potato.

“Okay, so if we both try everything and don’t get insanely sick, you’ll share some of those snacks, right?” Dib asked as he held a piece of meat on his fork, bracing himself.

“How about I share if you taste it first and tell Zim if it’s poisoned.”

They both bit down at last, eyes widening at the result.

“It’s real meat,” Dib said. “It’s kind of dry but it’s not some mystery amalgamation.”

“It appears so,” Zim replied, going back for another bite. “Does that mean we’re safe?”

“Maybe, but it could just be because the parents are hear and this is a horrible ruse to hide what will come in the future.”

“Or, this is a private school and dad’s paying them to not murder you with bad food,” Gaz said. “Also, you better not act this way when you’re sitting with the other students and embarrass me.”

“Okay, Gaz, we get it,” Dib said, finally accepting that food wasn’t going to be one of the battles ahead of him during his stay.

“Am I to understand that the food at your middle school is inedible?” Professor Membrane asked with a raised eyebrow. “Is this something you told me that I forgot?”

“No, we never mentioned it because we just thought that was how it was supposed to be,” Dib said. “Why?”

“Gaz, honey, remind me to get you a video camera to take with you to school on your first day back,” he said.

Dinner ended and Zim and Dib both said their goodbyes before heading back up to their room, vigilantly watching every student they passed along the way for any prolonged staring. Despite the carefree attitude of the Professor, they spent the remainder of their evening putting together the security system as they weren’t about to take any chances with alien technology.

“Attention, students, it is now 11 pm. All lights are required to be out and you should be in your beds,” came the announcement over the intercom.

Dib groaned as he pushed back from the signal finder he had been working on. “Stupid curfews. Come on, Zim, they’ll probably check the first few nights. But if you wait long enough and work quietly, you’ll probably be able to get up at one or two and work on things if you’re bored.”

Zim pulled out his contacts and hung his wig on the end of his bed which was the top bunk. “Maybe tomorrow. With all the moving and shouting and falling, Zim is tired. I’ll probably take an Invader nap.”

Dib’s heart skipped a beat and he stared as Zim crawled underneath his space invaders sheets next to GIR who was already curled up and in powered down mode.

“Um… Didn’t you just sleep two days ago? I didn’t think you slept that often.”

“Hmm? Do not question the *yawn* mighty Zim!”

Within moments Zim was unresponsive and Dib had a great deal on his mind.


	8. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day of class and a helpful kid gives them all they need to know about the important stuff in school!

“Okay, it’s the first day of class and we need to focus on starting strong and making a good impression,” Dib said as he and Zim left the dining hall from breakfast with a throng of other students migrating towards their classes. _And not on any weird alien biology things that may or may not be going on._

“Yes, yes, you keep saying that.” Zim rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. “I, however, am much more interested in examining the tech of these other so-called gifted earth pigs and gauging their dubious strengths for my mission.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, if you keep referring to everything as earth this and human that you’re just asking for people to start asking questions. Also, if you don’t get on people’s good side, they aren’t going let you in on what they’re up to.”

“Zim needs no pretend companionship! Zim takes what he wants!”

Dib flinched as it dawned on him for the first time just how loud the Irken was even if he wasn’t shouting.

“Would you keep your voice down, everything you say sounds suspicious,” Dib hissed as they neared the main class building, darting his eyes around at the other students who didn’t seem to be paying them much mind. “Most of these guys are going be harder to convince and if you get caught sneaking into rooms and being a pain in the first few weeks, you’re going to see your mission go down the drain real quick. Just follow my lead until we build some trust and then you can branch out.”

“HA! While I admit your plan to build favor with my Tallests through the application of snacks and puppet shows was ingenious, Zim does not need to be from this planet to know that Dib doesn’t have what most humans find desirable in a friend.”

“Hey, the last time _you_ made a friend you almost wound up in a horror movie.”

“Please, Keef was never a match for my might. And at least he wanted to hang out with me.”

Dib shot a pouting glare at Zim who smiled smugly back right before they entered class. “Just don’t immediately destroy our only chance to fit in.”

“Are you two trying to figure out the ins and outs of the student body?” A dark-skinned teen with wide eyes accosted the pair the second they walked through the door.

Dib jumped back and flailed while Zim let out a scream that turned the eyes of the other students towards them.

“Whoops, sorry guys, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the teen in a pink hoodie said while puffing short bangs out of their face. “My name’s Ricki, and I’m a sophomore. I learned a lot about the different groups here at school and I want pass my knowledge along to this year’s freshmen, so I decided to camp out in _all_ the different homerooms to let you know! Meet me at lunch today and I’ll put you and the others in the know!”

“Will you be spending the entire time talking like your words are on fire?” Zim asked with a strained expression.

“Zim don’t be rude, they’re trying to help us,” Dib said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ricki said, beginning to wildly pantomime while speaking. “I know it bothers some people, but I just can’t help it! Life and science and friendship and everything I have to say ever is just SO COOL that I just talk and talk and talk so everyone can know as MUCH AS I CAN SAY!”

“Ricki! Get out of my classroom and stop harassing my students!” came the barking command of the teacher at the front of the room.

“Uh-oh, gotta go!” Ricki pushed past them. “Catch you at lunch!”

Zim and Dib both looked at each other with uncertain acceptance as the hyper student disappeared from the room, leaving them to turn and confront the wrinkled grey face behind massive coke bottle lenses glaring at them.

The boys found seats in the classroom that held thirty students on risers like a lecture hall.

“Well, if everyone is done with their nonsense, we will begin.” The curmudgeon pushed his glasses up as he scanned the room. “I am Professor Steinsson, and let’s get something straight right off the bat. You are all here because you qualified, you scored high on your tests, you passed the portfolio exam and everything else you had to do to get here. You’re probably still riding the high of acceptance. Well look around you.”

He paused while students turned to scan the class, whispering questions to each other.

“I’m sure if you made it this far, you can count to thirty. I’ll give you a bit of help and tell you there are four freshman classes of the same size this year. Any of you prodigy children think you can manage to tell me what thirty times four is?”

“One hundred twenty?” Came a weak voice from the back of the class.

“One hundred twenty students who all passed the same test and the same portfolio exam as you. You might have been special and gifted at your old schools but here, you’re just one of one hundred twenty faces. Some of you will be finding out that you’re average for the first time in your bubbled off lives. Since you will be utterly unable to progress in the real world until that lesson has been beaten into your sugar coated, pride filled skull meat, I will take particular pleasure as I do every year in making certain that everyone learns that message.”

_No wonder dad hates this guy._

_This grubby pig slave is just begging for Zim to destroy him._

“So, get out your notebooks and pencils because we’re taking a test so we can show exactly where you all stand.”

The freshman/sophomore lunch bell rang after third period. Zim and Dib spotted Ricki in a sea of uncertain and newly stressed faces and squeezed into the throng that took up two long tables with Ricki pacing between them.

“Okay! We don’t have a lot of time before gym so let’s get to it!”

The students grew uncharacteristically quiet and turned their attention towards this potential social life line.

“The first thing you’ll notice over the first few weeks is that there are four main factions of students here. Sounds pretty common, right? They aren’t condoned or acknowledged by the school, but they are there.”

Ricki produced a trifold poster from… somewhere and opened it to reveal a diagram plastered on both sides so everyone could see.

“Now, since they aren’t official, there is easily some wiggle room to make friends with most people. Heck, if you think about it, making a lot of connections is the best chance you’re going to have at early networking for your future career. However, there are some hard-core members of these different groups and, well, it’s super impossible to make all of those guys happy. That’s were the choosing comes in.”

Ricki pointed to a sad face in the middle of the graph.

“Also, you want to do it your first year if you can, within the first few months. Otherwise, you’ll be labeled a loner which will make it harder for you to get along with others AND make the school’s psychology team take a BIG interest in you.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that, they had someone come to each of our classes this morning and talk about the school’s psychology team,” Dib asked. “It’s also on every page of information in the welcome packet.”

Ricki flapped their arms and rocked on the balls of their feet. “Hmm. Weeeeellll…. Okay so like, some of the teachers are really hard on the students because they want to make sure the school stays the NUMBER ONE FOR SCIENCE EVER!!! Also, lots of kids who come through here are super extra special focused on their work. On average, the school has had maybe a hundred or so incidents a year where the police or hospital had to get involved? Not to mention like, only one third to one half of a freshman class makes it to graduation for one reason or another. This kinda makes parents a little nervous and upset. Soooooo since the school normally has to fund psychiatry appointments for students who leave for four years they decided, why not bring them on campus and try to decrease the number of mad scientists and drop outs! Pretty neat, huh?”

Dib’s eyes fell on Zim who was looking at Ricki with a scowl and a fistful of fries handing out of his mouth.

“Yeah, that’s pretty interesting.”

“No, it’s pretty STUPID because it does not help ZIM with understanding the four friend thingies.”

“Right!” Ricki clapped their hands and returned to the graph. “So, the first major group is the realists. These guys are dedicated to the hard sciences: chemistry, applied physics, biology, anything that you can write down a problem and get a 100% no non-sense answer for. If they can’t see it or observe it, they aren’t interested in it.

“Next are the theoreticals. They like coming up with theories and testing them, even if the answers are more questionable. Think string theory and dark matter and time stuff. Though they don’t always get along, theoretcials and realists usually have an understanding to pass projects back and forth with each other.

“The students focused on health sciences like prospective doctors and mental health people make up the medical group. Since like, the whole world needs medicine, this group doesn’t have a whole lot of enemies and almost anyone will work with them easily unless they turn out to be super snobby or just in it for the money. No one in our generation has time for that kind of dookie.

“Finally, the most controversial group on campus, the fringes! Now these guys are some seriously dedicated kids. 90% of the mad scientists that come out of our school are part of the fringes. They are also the most diverse interest wise. They conduct CRAZY experiments, have a sold grip on tech and the physical world, and even some medical interest to help prove their theories. It may be the most isolated group on campus, because some don’t agree with what conclusions some of them are trying to draw, but it also is the easiest one to find help in because everyone is so dedicated to proving themselves!”

“These fringes intrigue me,” Zim said. “They sound like the most capable of earth’s young scientists.”

“I agree, and they might actually not laugh me off,” Dib added. “Though that just presents its own problems.”

“Pfft, don’t be a baby. HEY! EXPLAINATION HUMAN!” Dib laid his head down on the table with a sigh. “How does one get involved in one of these groups?”

“Oh! Right. The BEST way to get your name out there is through school clubs! They don’t start accepting freshmen until next month so no one gets overwhelmed too quick, but there is a club information and signup fair at homecoming which is only TWO WEEKS away! So, you all better think real hard and make up your mind by then so you can choose at least one club to be a part of! There’s SO MANY KINDS! Like the cooking club, computer club, medical club, dentist club, monster club, parents forced me to come but I like art club, alien club, zombie survival club, zombie creation club, chemistry club, chemical warfare club, super mecha bot challenge club…”

Ricki proudly rattled off clubs uninterrupted by their awestricken audience until the bell that dismissed juniors and seniors to lunch and freshmen and sophomores to gym sounded.


	9. Famous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Membrane unintentionally makes his son's life harder while not even there!

“I cannot BELIEVE the week I’ve had,” Dib complained as he and Zim snuck up to the roof of their dorm after skipping lunch in the cafeteria on their first Saturday afternoon.

“What are you complaining about, monkey brain? This week has been full of victories.”

“For you maybe,” Dib shot as they scanned the area for a suitable place to plant their various satellite receivers. “For me it’s been a complete nightmare! Like, I don’t even know if I know who I AM anymore after this week.”

“What nonsense are you spouting now? You are a nerdy fringe sciencey human and the rival thorn in Zim’s side in my mighty plans to conquer the earth. I thought we established that pretty good this week.”

Dib rolled his eyes as they picked an out of the way corner of the wall they felt most wouldn’t think to look to tamper with the small, hyper-sensitive electronics.

“Yeah, the whole school knows more about us than I hoped they ever would.”

“Relax, small obvious details like that are a sufficient price to pay for the leap forward in our knowingness! Their brainless fawning over your _dad _let us see inside their lairs and learn their secrets.”

“I know, that’s literally the only reason I played along,” Dib said as he got ready to work.

Zim’s plan to explore all the factions as quickly as possible and Dib’s sense of duty to satiate the manic alien to prevent any late-night raids that could draw negative attention too quickly had set him down a path starting Wednesday that quickly spiraled out of control.

The medicals had been the first group to step forward to confirm that Dib was the one dropped off by the famous TV professor who had definitely had a weird product cause a redacted event a few years ago on peace day. Dib had been straight forward, explaining he didn’t see himself going into the medical field, though he still had an interest in anatomy.

“That’s cool,” one of the seniors had said. “It’s not for everybody. But if you ever need help with medicine that isn’t centered around reanimation or mutation, let us know. We as a group are pretty open due to practicing our Hippocratic oaths early on.”

“Cool, thanks,” Dib said. “My last reanimation fiasco happened on accident, so I might stop by and see what I did wrong.”

“Sounds like a plan. We’re great at handing out the basics. But…” He paused for a minute, looking towards Zim, who was entertaining a group of freshmen with an overblown account of one of his early feats with his rival, and back to Dib, seemingly struggling with his thoughts and wording. “Is your uh… friend, rival? Okay? I mean… we’ve been scouring the books and have failed to find a single illness that could turn a human’s skin green, melt off his ears, and minimize his nose, and still leave him up and walking with such… vitality.”

Dib’s heart began to race and a cold, clammy feeling buzzed through his torso. “Um… w-well it’s a very rare condition. He might be the only one who has it even? He was in quarantine a lot as a kid because they weren’t sure if it was contagious, so he still acts kinda off.”

The senior continued to push against the explanation. “That sounds like a reasonable answer, but with the rumors going around that we have an alien on campus…”

It was right there, something that Dib had waited for for years. Another human being acknowledging that Zim MIGHT be an alien. No one had seen him without the disguise, there was nothing else apart from his shouts and odd mannerisms that stood out. Just a smart, respected student who would believe what Dib had been saying all this time.

He thought it would be harder, honestly.

“Psh, look, I know a lot about aliens, and I would know after all these years of being his rival if Zim was an alien.”

“I want to believe you, but if you don’t have a diagnosis…”

“The green children case study.” A confident voice broke into their conversation.

“The what?” the senior asked.

“It’s very old,” a young Latina girl said as she took a stand beside Dib. “And it was only recorded once in Europe a few hundred years ago. Two children emerged from a forest, completely green. They only ate green foods for a time, but once they branched out to other things, the green went away. It was before the kind of tests we can run now, so no one knows what caused it, but Zim might have a more intense version of that.”

“Hmm… Isn’t that more of a mythological story?”

“And aliens aren’t?” she asked, brushing her long curly hair out of her face. “By the way it sounds, you’re just fishing for an excuse to judge someone on their SKIN COLOR.”

She elevated the words just over her normal voice, but it cut through the rest of the conversations around them like a blazing knife.

“What? No! Not at all! My research must just be faulty,” he said, eyes darting around as the others in the hall began to peer in their direction. “Anyway, it’s time for class. Sorry for being so persistent. Remember, if either you or Zim needs help, feel free to ask. Bye Dib!”

The student about faced and walked off towards his class, not making eye contact or stopping to speak with anyone else.

“Wow, that really worked,” Dib said. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I’m Rafaela, by the way.”

“Dib, nice to meet you. Are you in the medical faction too?”

“I plan on it. I’m a freshman, so I haven’t had the opportunity yet.”

Dib nodded. “Well, I hope that doesn’t interfere with anything.” He pointed in the direction the other student had run.

“Ha! Not if he knows what’s good for him!” Rafaela said. “But seriously, I think he’s more curious than crazy. He wasn’t wrong about classes, though. I’ll see you around.”

Dib waved goodbye and grabbed Zim’s arm as the bell sounded, whispering what had happened as they faded into the crowd. It had been then that Zim suggested, and Dib agreed to, playing along to get an ‘in’ with all of the groups early on.

By the end of the day, Dib wished he had turned down the idea, or at least that the other factions were as easy to deal with as medical. As it was, the realists made no disguise of wanting to pad their legacy by getting the son of a fringe legacy to join them. It was almost impossible to keep a straight face each time one of them called him a ‘rational’ seeming person while scorning everything he had ever worked for in his life.

The theoreticals used similar tactics, offering themselves up at more flexible than the realists and more respectable than the fringes. Apart from that, it was virtually impossible to tell the difference between the two groups’ strategies.

“Hey~ Dib,” a blond upper classman leaned on the lunch table across from him on Thursday, her shirt hanging a bit lower than school regulation because of the angle. “Want to stop by room 305 after classes to get a look at some cool projects my club has been working on? A little sneak peek before the fair?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dib said with a flat shrug, immune to the hot older girlfriend trick after three attempts yesterday and two more already that day. “I’m bringing him with me.”

Dib tilted his head at Zim who was in the process of stuffing half a biscuit in his mouth.

The girl winced before letting her smile return full force. “Of course! We wouldn’t want to leave anyone out! See you later.”

Her last line was delivered in the sultriest tone a sixteen-year-old could manage and a wink. Dib waited until she was out of sight to roll his eyes, like a true gentleman.

“Do you think she’s from the realists, or the theoreticals?” he asked with a sigh.

“Zim doesn’t know but we have yet to look at a theoretical invention line up, so hopefully that,” he said around his mouthful.

“Dude, I don’t think I can put up with this much longer,” Dib confided. “I’m living in a teen movie PSA about shallow people.”

“Be grateful your human elevation school propaganda videos prepared you for such fakey praise because it is a diabolically clever tactic. Who knew it was possible to use _NICE WORDS_ to get someone to do something you wanted?”

Dib side-eyed the alien who had a truly baffled look on his face. “Nearly everyone knows that. It’s like, psychology 101.”

Zim scoffed at the idea but prioritized shoveling his chicken casserole into his face over answering.

“I wasn’t planning on joining either group before but now I can’t wait to get away from them.”

“Just think of the prize, Dib. We get to use their stupid game against them for intelligence gathering. These puny squirrel brains are playing right into our hands by allowing the mighty Zim into their lairs! We will learn all of their secrets.”

“Alright, I’ll put up with it at least until we’ve seen all four factions.”

Another flirty upperclassman and three sidestepped attacks later and the school day had ended and the boys made their way up to room 305. The symbol of the theoreticals, a magnifying glass over an atom that was also a diagram of the planets, was on the door.

“Ah, Dib. And Zim… Welcome!” said the space club president as they entered. “This is the theoretical space science club. We focus on theories of the properties and far-reaching effects of space. I’ve learned you’re a very well-read practitioner in the area.”

“You could say that,” Dib said, knowing he had more space exploration experience than any other human on the planet and that his sister took second place. “What sort of theories do you work on, and how is it different from the fringe approach?”

“I’m glad you asked!” the president said. “You see, we research the leading theories and hypothesis of space exploration, travel, composition, etc. and glean the best ones with the most backing to test and confirm.”

“Hey!” Zim called from over by the room’s formula-filled whiteboard where he was not in the least bit trying to hide that he was snooping and taking notes.

“In fact, we have over a 95% success rate in solving our problems and half of the cost and risk liability of the fringes who tend to gravitate towards anything that catches their fancy, no matter how inane.”

“HEY!” Zim shouted again.

The club president frowned and grumbled before he caught Dib raising an eyebrow at him. His demeanor flipped and he turned with a more neutral expression to answer.

“Yes, Zim? How can I help?”

“All this is wrong,” Zim said pointing at the whiteboard.

The president and other club members were at a loss for words.

“There are at least six different equations and theories on that board,” the president said with a patronizing smile as Dib crossed over to look as well. “Which one do you _think_ is wrong.”

“Stupid I said all of it,” Zim reiterated.

“I’m sorry, but I find it hard to believe that every one is wrong. Especially the one about space time that would have been on the test you took to qualify to even come here.”

“He’s right though,” Dib said as he looked over them as well. “Our entrance portfolio contained a devise we used to prove the space/time equation is wrong based on faulty data gathering. This one about maximum travel velocity possible is also wrong, it’s far too slow.”

“The one about the maximum weight capacity of a planet and the one about needed exit velocity to escape are also so wrong it hurts!” Zim explained, cutting off his anecdote about the Foodening after a quick shoulder knock from Dib.

“If you use that one to build a rocket, it’s going to explode on the launchpad. I’ve tried it.”

“How can you say you are a great science thinker if you don’t even realize that you didn’t carry the negative?” Zim added, pointing at the final series of numbers. “Also, all your projects are dumb and things even the Dib monkey made an earth cycle ago.”

“I don’t suppose you would like to offer some proof of your claims?” the livid president asked.

“My proof is that Zim is superior in every way.”

“Superior? Really? Because if you had the ability to solve all these at such a young age, I think it’s more likely that the alien rumors are true.”

“YOU LIE!”

Dib cut the rant short by elbowing Zim out of the way and taking the focus back on himself.

“Are you gonna call me an alien too? I think your theories are bad too. In fact, the only proof I need is the glance I got yesterday at the whiteboard in the fringe space club’s room. All these equations are on that board, too, but with more work and no conclusions. You just copied them down and used what in your textbooks to draw conclusions,” Dib said, causing their accuser to wilt.

“And you know what else?” he continued. “I can say the same thing about all your projects in here. They’re all fringe ideas dumbed down with regurgitated ideas from the past and create the same issues that the fringe group is trying to solve. That’s why your costs and risk are so low, you take ideas that have been partway developed and finish them in the laziest way possible! You’re almost as bad as the realists that don’t want to take any risks at all!

“Plus, your first reaction to someone calling you out is to accuse them of being an alien and that’s really pathetic.”

“Yeah, insolent worms!” Zim added. “I think we’ve exhausted what research we can do here. Let’s go before GIR trashes the room!”

Putting someone in their place had been enough to calm the warring thoughts in Dib’s mind until Friday after classes. A very crude mech robot piloted by a pudgy realist hopeful with a bowl cut had blocked the way to the dining hall for both Zim and Dib.

“Stop ignoring me!” they shouted.

Dib looked around at the other members of the crowd and at Zim who had a pursed lip, confused expression on his face.

“Who are you?”

It was the wrong thing to say as the encapsulated child let out an ear-piercing scream over his bot’s sound system.

“You’re just asking for it! I’m the might that has been pursuing you all week! You’ve had such a great time being the center of attention that you decided you didn’t need to notice my efforts, right? Well no more! After today, I’ll be leaving my mark by showing everyone that I’m greater than you!”

A laser raised on the back of his mech and he pointed it at Dib who reached for his ray gun, setting it to shield. He didn’t get a chance to use it at Zim stepped forward and smacked the blast away with one of his PAK’s legs, sending it into the roof of the school building where it cracked and singed the brick.

“Excuse me, but the Dib is MY eternal and unending rival, not yours you no name pig dookie!”

Dib had been positive a fight would break out, but with a bolt of lightning, the mech suit had collapsed onto the ground, ejecting its creator.

Zim was not the cause, as his stunned head tilt suggested. The shrug he gave after suggested he didn’t much care, satisfied that he had made his point.

“Is everyone okay?” asked a sophomore who stepped between the bot and its targets.

“Everything but the roof and his face,” Dib said. “Did you do that?”

The upperclassman cast a look up at the damage before smiling and answering. “Yeah, I’m Ayo. I’m vice president of the tech club on the realist side of things. Sorry some of us can get a little intense, but I’m one who just wants to help spread the learning.”

The serene teen offered an umber hand to shake which Dib took.

“Thanks, after the past few days, I’m glad there are some sane people left.”

“Right, we’re having a meeting today with the councilors, all the clubs and factions. Word got out that they’re hounding you and they’re going to tells us to quit. So, hope your days get better and if you need any help with your tech, let me know, alright?”

“Okay, so maybe we met a few decent people, shut down all their baloney, and got some pretty sweet intel,” Dib said on the roof as his recollection drew to a close, “but can you believe that I had to turn down like four different people who would have taken me seriously about you being an alien? This is just insanity levels that shouldn’t be possible right now and… hey is it working now? Zim?”

When the mouthy alien hadn’t responded, Dib turned towards where he should be, fearing his ranting had sent the other running. That was not the case.

“Seriously? You’re taking a nap in the middle of the day on a roof?”

Zim was too busy leaning against the air vent next to their project, soaking up the warm midday rays with his green skin that seemed buzzing with life even as he lay so still.

“Can you stop adding to our crisis for five minutes?” Dib asked, snatching the signal tester away from Zim before sitting back to confirm their connections as he monitored the extra rest.


	10. The Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim and Dib finally choose their clubs and meet even more new people.

It was Tuesday morning of homecoming week and classes were about to start for the day.

“Stupid human limited batteries,” Zim mumbled to himself as he approached his locker for his power cord. “I need to make a portable power cell so I don’t need to plug in this infernal school issued, anti-cheat work tablet.”

“HI MASTER!” GIR shouted from inside the locker, causing Zim to jump back with a scream and pull out a ray gun from his jeans pocket.

“GIR!” he said, squeedly spooch clenching as he attempted to regain an air of calm as the other students looked at him. “What are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be guarding the room with EDA until we know the security system is more excellent than any no-good room enterers!”

“I know,” GIR replied before reaching into his chest cavity and pulling out two Irken sugar dip snacks. “You forGOT your SNACKS! You sleep more when you do.”

“Thank you,” Zim took the packages and balanced them between his tablet and chest. “Also, what nonsense are you spouting about me sleeping? You don’t even know how to tell time.”

“It’s true! But the Dibs does. He talks about it ALL the time. He also says you eat more.”

“How come _I’ve_ never heard the Dib monkey say such things?” Zim glared at GIR, waiting for his tall tale to fall apart.

“DUH, you’re asleep, silly.”

“I’m not silly GIR, that’s your job.”

“oooOOoooh. Woo-HOO! I likes that!” GIR jumped off the locker shelf and hugged onto Zim’s neck.

“Yes, yes, good, now get back to your post!” Zim ordered.

“Okie dokie!” The little robot dropped to the floor and started to run off. He quickly did a 180 and ran back up to Zim. “Can we sneak out for tacos?”

Zim looked thoughtful, though he knew saying no wasn’t a valid option. “Tonight, as long as you don’t break anything!”

“Yes sir!” GIR flashed red and saluted before giggling and skipping back towards the dorm.

Zim watched until his robot companion turned the corner before he retrieved his cord and slammed his locker shut.

“So…”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” Zim screamed once more and pulled his stun gun on the greasy, acne covered student no longer hidden by his locker door.

They stood in silence as a few laughs passed through their audience while the warning bell rang. A sea of life began to migrate away from them and towards their classes. Zim growled and put away his gun.

“Is this some new game at Zim’s expense? Because I don’t appreciate it.”

“Do not speak to me of games, vile one,” the pasty student, a few inches shorter than Zim, said. “My name is Carl and”

“Carl? Seriously?” Zim asked.

“Shut up! I can’t help what my parents named me!” he said. “What you need to concern yourself with is the fact that I am onto you, creature of the stars. Many may choose to look the other way, but I am different and I will”

Zim waved his hand in a shooing motion. “I don’t need you to pledge your undying ire and sense of justice to capture and over throw me for Zim is a perfectly normal human who has a skin condition and does not like to be made fun of for his different pigmentation. The human medicine hopeful Rafaela says it’s very rude to talk about such things.”

Carl stomped his foot. “Don’t try playing the victim. Do you even hear yourself talk with your lack of ears? ‘The human medicine hopeful’ what other kind of medicine is there? Hmm?”

“Veterinary?” Zim said, causing Carl to drop his accusatory point. “Also, Zim doesn’t like when people point out his genetic ear differences.” 

“I bet you don’t you scummy little…”

“Hey!” Dib’s voice cut him off. “Don’t talk to my roommate that way. We’ll tell the school councilor or a teacher that you’re being hostile if you keep it up.”

“Tsk, like I care,” Carl said, withdrawing anyway. “Mark may word Zim, I will oppose you at every turn, thwart your every move, destroy”

“No thank you, Zim already has a rival and will not be requiring your services.”

Carl hissed, turned, and ran off.

“Was I like that when you first arrived?” Dib asked.

“I didn’t realize you stopped until just now,” Zim answered. “I’m surprised I never killed you. That was annoying.”

“Not like you didn’t try,” Dib said as they walked towards their classroom.

“You look weird in that shirt, by the way,” Zim commented. “Red is not your color.”

“I know, I’m a winter and this is a very summery shade,” Dib said. “But it’s our class color so I have to wear it every homecoming week until we graduate. Have you thought about what club you want to be in? I’m stuck between a few creature clubs and this one fringe biology club.”

“Zim was considering an anatomy and a tech club. But I would suggest avoiding the fringed battle weapon club.”

“Why? That sounds like it would be right up your ally.”

“Please, Irken weaponry is years ahead of your puny planet’s. I’m more interested in how close your species is to joining the intergalactic table. Plus, I caught someone trying to disable our security system and gave him the exploding boot blueprints with triple epsilon encryption.”

“They won’t get through that any time soon. I just cracked it a month ago with access to an alien registry,” Dib commented as they turned into their classroom.

“Yes, but it’ll be best not to go in with a group that wants our things so much.”

“Dib, can I talk to you for a second?” Rafaela, who they realized was in their homeroom class the day after they met her, asked.

“Sure,” Dib said, watching Zim bypass them to take his seat.

“So, I got your message about testing a vial of liquid without opening or dispensing it,” she said, lowering her voice.

“Yeah? And?”

“Well, there may be a way to do it, but it’s going to need a special refracting tool that only the AP chemistry class has access to without a teacher,” she explained. “That means I’m going to have to work on getting an ‘in’ with a chemist who doesn’t ask questions.”

“I see,” Dib said. _I wonder if I can get Zim to let me take the cruiser back to his base alone?_

“Yeah, I’ll try, don’t get me wrong, but… Can I ask why you can’t just spare a bit to do a proper analysis?”

“It’s supposed to be medicine,” he replied, taking care with his words. “And if it is then I can’t risk wasting any.”

“That makes sense. Is everything okay? I’m guessing it’s for your roommate.”

“It is, and it should be fine. I don’t want to risk someone with a Magno Listener 6000 picking up the details, though.”

“Right, I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks again.”

Dib waved and climbed up to take his seat.

_Even if I went back to scan it, would the computer be able to give me a straight answer? Or would it tell me what those two want no matter what. Could I trick it by pretending it’s something else?_

“Mr. Membrane, would you care to pay attention this morning?” Professor Steinsson barked, calling Dib back to the present.

“Yes sir, sorry!”

“I swear, it’s worse every decade with you children, always thinking about your clubs and parties as opposed to your assignments,” the elder grumbled.

He wasn’t wrong, to be fair. The air buzzed with excitement the entire day, cutting attentions and increasing whispered conversations as new friends tried to coordinate their attack on the event. By the time the fair began, students were bounding through the gymnasium like it was race day, eager to stamp their names on club ledgers and begin leaving their mark.

The boys took their time winding through the tables. They heckled the theoretical space club again, corrected a sign that listed bigfoot as less intelligent than a lemur, and second guessed if they could get by with cooking club once the sample cookies tingled their taste buds.

“What’s up? Keeping out of trouble?” Ayo asked when they passed his club’s table.

“Trying too,” Dib said. “But it’s hard with these bright colors.”

Ayo laughed. “I feel ya, I wasn’t too fond of this muddy yellow either, but hey, we all go through it. You two figure out what you’re going for?”

“We have it narrowed down, but we’re going to meet the teams before we make our final choice,” Dib said.

“I know realists can be boring, but you ever give tech a thought?”

“While Zim was very impressed by your display of technical prowess a week ago, I have a very important goal in mind with these clubs.”

“Got it,” Ayo said with a nod. “Just let me know if I can help you out.”

“Thanks man, we appreciate it,” Dib said before they moved on.

The gymnasium started to thin out after the first twenty minutes, many of the students having made their selections before fleeing the loud echoes and cramped spaces.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine splitting up?” Dib asked as they neared another stall. “Everyone has been breathing down your neck.”

“Zim is capable of taking care of himself, Dib. You forget my incredible training!”

“You almost blew yourself up on the first day we met,” Dib said.

“Yes, but since then I have learned how to deal with you humans and your questioning ways,” Zim gloated. “What’s this one?”

“Are you interested in the fringe group’s mech suit battle bot club?” asked a pale and serene faced senior.

“It sounds interesting, but we already know a lot about this and I don’t think I want my club to be something I know by heart,” Dib said.

“But that is a good reason to be in a club,” he said. “To build and share your knowledge. And if I am not mistaken, the pair of you have a great deal of knowledge.”

“How do you know?” Zim asked, eyeing the other suspiciously.

“Simple. I am quite devoted to the trade and look into everything I can on the subject. The pair of you had an interesting summer before last, did you not?”

“You could say that,” Dib confirmed.

“And, in case you didn’t know, you can be in more than one club at a time. Freshmen can be in three as long as they keep their grades and health up. Ours also has mandatory meetings on Mondays, right after classes. Most clubs avoid that day altogether.”

Dib and Zim exchanged glances.

“If we get bored, are you going to be all in our faces with the whining and the puny threats if we drop out?” Zim asked.

“Not at all, I don’t believe in such bullying tactics. I’m Narcís, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dib said. “And if you only meet once a week, I guess we could stop by.”

“Yes, it could be useful, especially if that pig nose tries to attack us again,” Zim concurred.

They signed up and said goodbye.

“Take care of yourselves. Don’t overdo it! It’s always a shame to see bright lights snuffed out under the grinding wheel of society,” Narcís said with a wave.

“He seemed nice,” Dib commented. “Very calm.”

“Mmhm. Dib, GIR says that you’ve been commenting on my eating and sleeping habits, is that true?”

Dib’s heart leapt into his throat. “Come on, believing GIR on something requiring memory? Anyway, don’t you keep track of your own health and habits? How else would you know if you were getting sick?”

“GIR gets it right exactly 4 times for every 51 scenarios he is presented with,” Zim said. “Also, Zim doesn’t get sick because of his superiorness. But, if I _was_ in a theoretical situation to get sick, my computer has a limited number of things to look for as banished Foodcourtians don’t get the best treatment.”

“Wait, didn’t that change before you came to Earth?” Dib asked, his frown deepening.

“No, the Tallests… forgot,” Zim said. “But it is not a big deal as long as a computer doesn’t attempt to assign Zim a career.”

“Maybe you should ask them to put science back now that they’re using you again. And get a checkup while you’re at it.”

A shudder went through Zim and a soft and fragile look Dib couldn’t quite place crossed over his face. “That isn’t necessary. Zim is fine.”

Dib wanted to press but was interrupted by a pair of twins getting in their face.

“Hello, I’m Leola.”

“And I’m Connor. We’re telling everyone about a new club forming this year.”

“It’s a cross-faction club meeting on Wednesdays and Fridays to exchange ideas and help come up with ways to advance health and peace all over the world,” Leola explained.

“We have had positive reception so far,” Connor said. “Would you consider giving us a shot?”

Leola held up a clipboard with roughly fifteen signatures which, for a new club, was decent.

“This could be an excellent way to find many new ideas,” Zim said, drumming his fingers together.

“It might be a nice one to tell dad about,” Dib admitted.

Looking over the names of the other members, Ayo and Rafaela both appeared on the roster. This sealed the deal and they decided to give it a try.

With most of their week full, Zim and Dib had their choices limited from their initial selection lists. By the end of the fair, Zim had joined a fringe space club that Dib swore already had an alien in its ranks, while Dib had sighed up for Cryptids Aliens Fae and Yokai (CAFY), the only monster club on campus that had a scientific aim to their work. Both met on Tuesdays and Thursdays and were in a room directly across from each other.

Dib yawned and stretched before climbing into bed. “Hey Zim?”

“Hm?” he replied, not looking up from battery parts he was mulling over.

“Would your computer lie to you if the Tallests told it to?”

“Probably.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Irkens serve their Tallest and the control brains. Whatever they want, we accept.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it.”

Zim’s hands stilled. “It’s true for most Irkens. It would be easier for it to me true for me if they gave me the acknowledgment I deserved.”

“If they told you something out of the blue, with only a few words of explanation, would you believe them?”

His antenna twitched but his hands began to work again. “Yes. They wouldn’t kill Zim. And if they are wrong, I will make them correct so they know I will not fail them.”

Dib sighed, feeling the conversation had hit a wall. “Okay. Good night, Zim.”

“It will be until GIR gets back.”


	11. CAFY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a small small fish in a bigger pond crisis, Dib has his first CAFY club meet and likes the members. Well, most of them.

Thirty minutes before his first CAFY club meeting, Dib pushed open the door to his dorm room. He tossed his bookbag onto his bed and sat down hard at his desk, flopping forward in a display of utter dejection, ignoring the high-pitched greeting of the robots. His mind swirled with a rounding repeat that had been occupying his mind for over an hour; the moment he confidently called out the wrong answer in front of his entire class.

“It wouldn’t make any difference at the old school because they wouldn’t know the answer either even if they laughed. Here, everyone knows just how I messed up even if they keep quiet about it,” he grumbled into the crook of his arm.

“Aw, you looks so sad,” GIR said as he skipped over to the desk. “Does he needs his hug?”

Dib sighed and pushed himself back up. “I’m fine, just needed to get out for a break.”

“Are you certain you would not like a diagnostic scan?” EDA asked, wobbling across the room towards him. “Colds and flus are common at the start of the school year and are best addressed quickly.”

“Being embarrassing isn’t an illness,” Dib answered. “Also, what’s wrong with your walking?”

Not waiting for an answer, Dib picked up his robot and was surprised to feel an added weight and heat.

“What the?” He unscrewed EDA’s head to get a look inside.

GIR screamed when the head came off, this being one of the times the erratic robot decided it was terrified by the action, but EDA remained calm as this was simply one of his features. Dib had been in a hurry a half year ago to create his own robot sidekick. He had a variety of reasons: the challenge, the gloating rights if it worked better than Zim’s, a desperate attempt to give GIR a distraction so he would stop wreaking havoc across town; and very little time, leading him to get creative with recycling.

This had sent him to the scrap box in Professor Membrane’s home laboratory where he found a personal coffee thermos assistant. It was built to fetch coffee, add cream and sugar to specifications, and keep the product at the perfect temperature. It was discarded after the coffee assistant strike of 03 and was just begging to be put to use. Dib had added an LCD screen to the lid as a face, loaded it with weapons and different programming, and called it a day.

“Soup? Really?”

“So that’s where I left it!” GIR cheered.

Dib scowled. He knew it was useless to lecture and scold.

“Don’t do it again,” he said anyway. “Now come here.”

Dib dumped to soup into GIR’s open maw and checked to make sure the water-proofing he had installed for such a happening had held. Rising to his feet, he carried the body of his bot to the charging and cleaning station, selecting the internal spray wash and dry cycle and plopping the head back on once it was finished.

“There, that should fix it.” Dib sat back down in his seat as EDA tested his reaction times. A thought crossed his mind. “Where did you get that soup anyway?”

“Ordered it,” GIR said.

“From where?”

“Space.”

_That’s right, he can use the computer no issue, no matter how crazy he gets. I wonder what else he can do?_

“Hey GIR.”

“Yes?” The tiny bot tilted his head.

“Is there any secret reason that makes Zim different from the other Irkens?” _Worth a shot._

“Uh-huh! He’s so cute and special! He really is.”

Dib rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I meant like something that would make it so they couldn’t kill him or that would make him dangerous to his leaders so they’d try to make me kill him.”

“He won’t die, he’s a squishy smeet face. Plus, he’s the most awesomest just like he says.”

Dib’s watch chimed, telling him it was time to rush back for his club meet. “Right, awesome Zim. You two behave, we’ll be back.”

“BYE MARY!”

“His name is Dib.”

_Well, that was pointless. He’s as full of his crazy admiration as ever. I wonder if it would work if I kept asking, but that increases the chance of him telling Zim._

His phone pinged a message as he approached the classroom door.

purpleoverlady: Did you tell Zim yet?

countnerdulon: I’m working on it. I can’t tell him the truth until I know it and it’s proving illusive.

purpleoverlady: Don't make me give you the stink eye u_O

Dib shoved the phone back into his pocket as he pushed the classroom door open. He didn’t have time to deal with Gaz questioning his methods, he had first impressions to make. He waved and returned greeting to the other members of the group, recognizing Leola and Connor and having his stomach sink when he spotted Carl.

_Great, I joined this one to avoid people like that._ Dib attempted to not display open hostility as he took a seat in the circle of desks in the center of the room.

“Alright, looks like we’re all here,” said Dale, the senior lead of the club. “Welcome freshmen to CAFY, the club that looks for proof of the supernatural to study, interact, and grow.”

“And destroy! Right?” Carl chimed in.

“No, we are not monster hunters of any kind. Most of us here are either curious and want to learn or are aiming for a time where humans will be integrated with other species,” Dale said without hesitation. “Any tools or weapons we make are for the sake of betterment and unity, not for war.”

“But what if they attack us?” Carl pressed. “That deserves destruction, right?”

“If they attack, then it can warrant self-defense. Do you have a story to share that makes you think destruction might be necessary?”

“Boy, do I!” Carl jumped up to his feet and stood on his chair, fists clenched and knees bent. “Aliens are a menace to the planet and cryptids are a danger to society! They don’t follow the rules, they ~creep~ around abducting cows and conducting nefarious experiments or breaking in to places they don’t belong!”

Dib held his tongue as it was too much even for him to pretend like Zim hadn’t done all of those things.

“That sounds very vivid and dire, but you didn’t really give an example,” Dale said.

“You want an example, I’m sure he has some!” Carl pointed at Dib. “They both deny it but I know his alien’s a roommate!”

Dib snorted a laugh as the others turned to him. They also had placating smiles on their faces.

“Well, Dib, is there anything you want to add?”

“I mean, one time Bigfoot broke into our garage to use our power saw. I was like, eight and it freaked me out because my dad didn’t believe me and he wouldn’t tell me what he was going to make with it,” Dib confessed. “Doesn’t really justify destruction, though.”

“Man, I remember when I first encountered a Bigfoot,” Merle, a sophomore, said. “I felt so bad because my rottie kept trying to chase her and I was too small to hold him back!”

“Yeah, they really are pretty gentle,” Dib agreed. “I feel bad because I tormented one once when I was younger, desperate to prove to my dad they were real. We both almost fell off the radio tower.”

“Yikes,” Merle said. “I’m glad my dad was walking the dog with me, that would suck to not have him believe.”

“Isn’t your dad a legendary fringe?” Conner asked. “Why doesn’t he believe?”

“He’s the borderline evil scientist, replace your blood with coffee, and theorize about altering the time line kind of fringe, not the paranormal kind,” Dib explained. “He’s actually frustratingly resistance to all my proof.”

“Have you introduced him to ZIM?” Carl asked.

“Zim spent most of the summer at my place getting our portfolio together while his parents were on vacation,” Dib replied. “My dad is busy but he was actually home more days than he was away this summer, it was a nice change of pace.”

“It must be hard to have a famous parent,” Leola said.

“Sometimes. Like with any parent, there was a learning curve and he got better as the years went on,” Dib said. “It was easy for me to slip out to study the pixies that lived in the park or accidentally open a portal to a nightmare dimension through my head, which was fun.”

The group laughed.

“What about your experience with aliens?” Carl grew frustrated as the topic moved away from where he wanted it to be. “TELL ME YOUR SECRETS!”

“That would make me pretty lame at secrets,” Dib said. “But I was wondering, does anyone else scan the sky? I’ve been picking up this weird signal out of the Pisces constellation and haven’t been able to identify it.”

“That was going to be today’s topic,” Dale said, looking like he regretted every alien-centric event he had planned for that year. “I’ve picked it up too, and I was wondering who else had.”

“I did but, like Dib, I couldn’t translate it,” Merle said, pushing her glasses up her nose as they slid down. “It does seem to follow the kind of rotating pattern you would expect to find in language, though, so I feel it’s within the realm of possibility. I just don’t have enough recording to start looking for a pattern.”

“How much do you have?” Dib asked. “I’ve been tracking it since December and have it all recorded and logged.”

“It’s been going on that long? I only found it a month ago,” Dale said.

“I’ve had it for two,” Merle said. “Now I’m a bit jealous of the tech available to the son of a genius TV star.”

Her smile carried no ill will and Dib returned a similar energy.

“Yeah, he does have some good toys laying around. I found it because I was paranoidly searching for other instances after the event with the Catopus visitors.”

“You live close enough to have heard of that?” Leola asked. “That’s crazy, I thought only people in our town knew!”

“What a relief,” Connor added. “Even for aliens, Amazonian warriors with the top half of a cat and tentacles on the bottom seem like a farfetched idea.”

“No way, really? What happened?” Merle asked.

“Did they attack? Were they killed?” Carl only asked the most important questions.

“No! They didn’t hurt anybody,” Leola said.

“Man would that visit have been easier if they had,” Dib let slip before he could stop himself.

“Why do you say that?” Dale asked.

“Well… Let’s just say Zim’s parents skipped an important talk and there was a lot of him screaming out questions that everyone knew the answer to but no one wanted to say.”

“What do you mean? Is that code for something?” Carl ran up on Dib, glaring at him.

“It means they were here looking for boyfriends but not to take with them and I’m not about to explain that to two shouting morons.” Dib could hardly get the sentence out without flushing. There was absolutely no chance he was admitting he and Zim attempted to play matchmaker in order to get them off the planet faster. He wasn't even certain everyone involved in the flaming love display was out of the hospital.

“Right, back to the signal,” Dale said with a clap of his hands. “How about we all take the next day or two to look for the signal? Dib, if you can bring in those transmissions, we can make our first project trying to decode it. How does that sound?”

Everyone voiced their approval.

“Excellent. Well, it’s time for dinner so we should make our way to the dining hall. See you Thursday!”


	12. Fringe Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim visits his own club and propels their research forward while meeting new and interesting people.

“Okay, let’s welcome the freshmen to their first Fringes of Space meeting!” Aludra, the senior head of the club, said.

A weak round of courtesy applause disturbed the air.

“So, who wants to do the big intro speech?” Aludra asked.

Ricky fell out of their chair from raising their hand to high.

“Anyone besides Ricky? Preferably someone who can do it in under five minutes.”

Just as she prepared to cave, a junior, the one Dib had expressed concerns to Zim about, stood and walked to stand by their leader.

“Guess I can do it,” he said. “My name’s Grey and welcome to the club. We spend our time researching topics pertaining to space: travel, bodies, extraterrestrials, etc. We work to get new answers to old questions and find new questions from those answers. We aim for at least two big projects a year. We try not to do more than four, because that’s when accidents start to happen, and we rarely get stuck only doing one. Any questions?”

Zim watched Grey carefully, trying to see if Dib’s instinct had been correct. Grey was definitely an apt name; it matched his skin tone. His eyes were green and wider than the average human’s, though not as tall as Zim’s. His lips were thin and his nose was small and a bit misshapen, almost like it was stuck on.

_Zim will be paying you a visit, Grey. Earth is mind and mine alone for the taking._

He dropped his suspicious glare and raised a hand, participation always looked good at these human functions. “Yes, Zim has a question!”

“Yes, what is it?” Aludra asked.

“What sorts of projects do you plan for this year?” Zim asked politely. “Travel? Observation? Weaponry?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, alien?” came the voice of a freshman sitting behind Zim.

“HEY! WHO SAID THAT?” Zim was standing on his chair in an instant.

“Woah, now, easy,” Grey said, stepping forward. “There’s no need for that. Zim got into this school, same as everyone else, and says and acts just like the rest of us. We all need to be respectful here because, at the end of the day, we’re not here to discriminate.”

“That’s right!” Aludra said with a bright grin. “And discrimination is a one-way ticket out of the club!”

Zim sat back down with the same triumphant feeling he got every time one of his classmates stood up for his lies since he began attending school. He had, however, become much more adept at hiding the gloat he felt after learning humans were very adept at reading facial features and drawing accurate conclusions from them.

“Now, to answer your question, Zim,” Aludra continued. “Our first project, or rather task, is to practice with these equations that you see on the board. We’ll only spend two weeks on them, as we have yet to figure them out, and afterwards, depending on our answers, we’ll be building an observation tool.”

Zim flicked his eyes towards the board indicated, spotting the same six equations from the other space club. He remembered Dib mentioning those phonies had stolen their idea and lazily solved them incorrectly.

“Oh, I know the answer to that one,” Zim said, carefully pointing at the space/time one that Dib had already told people about.

_“You can’t just blurt out every answer,” _Zim recalled the big-head saying. _“It’ll get people to pay too much attention. Just say one thing, then let them help with the rest.”_

“Really? Could you come and demonstrate?” Aludra said, her voice half way between impressed and unbelieving.

“Of course.”

Zim walked to the front of the room and quickly completed the equation with a piece of chalk. He stepped back and smiled proudly, waiting for the due praise to come rolling in.

“Hmm… the answer does calculate out,” Grey said. “How did you two find this answer?”

Zim felt his antenna twitch under his wig; was this Grey trying to set him up after all?

“Well, you see, the Dib’s _dad_ is a big fancy television science man and leaves plenty of sciency things laying around his house. While doing advanced school work, we decided to test the known equation with a particle cannon. When it failed to meet expectations, we simply made a tool to figure out the answer.”

“And you didn’t have any help?” the heckler asked.

“We did not need HELP! We, but mostly me, are brilliant enough to concoct it on our OWN!” Zim spat.

“Wow, Zim, you must be pretty cool if you could do this all yourself,” Ricky said. “Was it hard to carry the project?”

“Nothing the amazing Zim could not handle,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Though it was trying at times. Dib insisted on making it as boring as possible. He even made me take out the smoke machine and lasers!”

“That sucks, your ideas sound like the BEST!” they replied.

“If you sneak into Zim’s room or do other creepy stalker things, Zim will hang you up by your toes in a lightning storm with a metal bomb in your mouth.”

“Fair enough.” Ricky said, inching back out of Zim’s personal space. “But hey, if that’s the case, then wouldn’t this maximum capacity speed one also be solvable?”

They plugged in the numbers and solved the next problem.

“That puts space travel in an entirely new light,” Aludra said.

“Do you think we’ll ever see space travel?” asked another, less disruptive freshman.

“I think so,” Grey said.

“Hmm… probably in the next ten solar cycles,” Zim added.

“Do you think it could be that soon?” Grey asked.

“Well, provided nothing gets too explody, Zim and Dib will lead the way if your human adults don’t do it first.”

“Is that your ultimate rivalry goal?” the nicer freshman asked.

Zim scoffed. “Please, our rivalry is based on a much higher goal! Proving my complete superiority in every way! Dib has been a thorn in my side for a while now, but eventually he will bow down before my awesome might.”

He grinned and clenched his fist.

“What about your height?” the heckler asked.

“SILENCE INSOLENT WORM CHILD!” Zim shouted, pointing menacingly at the annoyance. He quickly cleared his throat and dropped his posture when he felt concerned eyes light on him. “I mean, you don’t know what you speak of! Zim has grown great lengths since meeting Dib. I was shocked at first, then I realized, the mighty Zim’s pure glory determined he could not remain pathetically shorter than the puny Dib, so I must outgrow my original height estimates to prove my superior superiorness!”

“Woah,” Ricky said, wide eyed. “I didn’t know it could work that way.

“Of course it can, fawning human.”

“Maybe for aliens.”

“FOOL! It is a perfectly normal human theory that a strong brain can cause alterations to a body!”

“Oh yeah, didn’t Professor Membrane say his first rival came up with that theory then died in a volcano?” Ricky asked.

“Ye- wait, how did you know about that?” Zim asked.

“I know everything,” Ricky whispered, staring blankly past Zim’s face.

“Doesn’t the fact that he died prove he was wrong?”

“No, it merely proves he was not as great as the magnificent Zim,” the alien replied.

“Alright, it’s very interesting all around,” Aludra said, shoving her was into the conversation. “Zim, could you bring the device or the plans to next meeting so we can make that our first project?”

“Very well,” Zim said. “It is good to share ideas, after all.”

“Right. Okay, it’s time to head off to dinner. See you all on Thursday for, hopefully, a more peaceful meeting.”


	13. Weasel and Pig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight breaks out and the boys receive their sentencing.

“Date: Friday, September XX. Mission Status: Stink Rotten,” Dib whispered into a recording watch in a corner of the hall as he waited for Zim to leave his final class of the day. “Premature celebration on his sleep cycle heading in the opposite direction. Observations: bags under the eyes, more cranky and violent than normal (somehow), slipping grades, increase in unhealthy food consumption. Diagnosis: very tired alien.”

As the days had ticked by, Zim’s sleep schedule had continued to change. From sleeping once or twice a week and a rare day nap to sleeping every other night and napping one a week, Dib had almost been ready to break his resolve and just confess his knowledge to Zim without answers. He waited a few extra days, desperately hoping he would be given access to the lab tech he needed. Rafaela was delayed in responding and with the likelihood of Zim’s equipment lying, he really felt out of options.

Then everything seemed to reverse. It wasn’t normal, by any means, but the last two weeks Zim hadn’t slept the entire week. Sure, he crashed on last Saturday, and likely would again tomorrow, but it had seemed like an improvement.

“Seeking explanation for change on the way back to the dorm, don’t want to further aggravate condition,” Dib said before spying the person of his worry leaving his history class.

He pulled his sleeve down and quick stepped to fall in line with the other as they walked back towards the dorm to get rid of their things before the night’s club meeting.

“Soooooo…”

Zim flinched and grunted. _Dib stink is too obvious._

“Hard day? You look tired.”

Zim hissed. “How many times must I tell you, you insufferable pig worm, Zim is FINE!”

Dib flinched. “Hey, come on, it’s just a question. Don’t get so defensive. It’s perfectly normal to be tired every now and then.”

Zim rounded on him, razor-like teeth barred. “No it ISN’T Dib. I know that, you know that, half the galaxy probably knows that by now!”

“Easy.” Dib held up his hands, flicking his eyes around to see if anyone was paying attention and finding that several were.

“Do NOT tell me what to do, you stab handed fiend,” Zim spat.

_Ah crud, I should have waited until after the crash._ “What do you mean, stab handed?”

“Don’t play innocent! And don’t blame my GIR! I was under the impression that you had grown less apprehensible after many solar cycles of fighting against and beside each other, but now I see that was nothing more than a clever lie.”

“What? No, wait…”

“SILENCE! DO NOT PATRONIZE ME! You think I don’t notice? You’re watching, always watching; plotting too, no doubt.” Zim clenched and unclenched his claws as he spoke. “Worming your way into my mind, forcing me to embrace your customs as an experiment on my mighty faculties. But no more! Zim has caught onto you, Dib.”

The teenager groaned, pushing up his glasses as he rubbed his face. “Zim, that’s not it at all. Okay, look, we need to talk, but you haven’t slept in five days and you NEED it. We can talk tomorrow after you wake up.”

“Why would I continue you humor your specie’s day and night cycle traditions? Do you not think I have caught on to the brain war you are making? The vivid horror images plastered across eyes that are closed!”

“Wait, does that mean you’re having nightmares? Is that why you won’t sleep?” Dib asked.

“Zim has no horses whether awake or asleep!”

“Nightmares have nothing to do with horses, Zim,” Dib pinched the bridge of his nose. “Next you’re going to tell me you’ve never had a dream.”

“Feh, what use would a mighty Irken warrior derive from such a primitive activity as watching erroneous displays of past events with the colors all icky.” Zim scrunched his face and wiggled his fingers as he recalled his most common dreams.

“Zim…”

“HA! After all of this, are you still going to act like I’m wrong?” The cracking voice of Carl grate against their ears, worsening both boys’ moods. “You might as well have just announced it to the whole school!”

Dib shot a glare at him and his new pig-nosed best friend; the mech boy Hamford. They had proven to be not only utterly incompetent, excessively annoying, and annoyingly persistent; but they had the worst possible sense of timing imaginable.

“Shut up, we don’t have time to deal with you…”

“You watch yourself, Dib,” Carl spat. “When we fully expose him, you’ll go down to as a harborer of a dangerous extraterrestrial creature.”

“You’re SO getting kicked out of CAFY,” Dib said.

“Stop with your petty and powerless threats, Dib,” Hamford said, his voice squelching as if he had meat stuffed into his cheeks perpetually. “We’re taking you both down!”

Just as Dib thought the pair couldn’t prove themselves less intelligent, both drew weapons. Carl had the cheapest stun gun from Monster Hunter’s Monthly spray painted chrome to look like the better model. Hamford called out a small drone bot that sparked with live current from under its flying body.

“Not cool, you two.” Dib shielded Zim with his body, trying to end the fight before it could start. “This has stopped being funny weeks ago. Just-”

Dib grunted as Zim gruffly shoved him away, pulling a laser canon from his PAK.

“Foolish pigs! Do you think your pathetic TOYS are any match for ZIM?!”

“Chill, that’s way too powerful to use on brats,” Dib said, eyes wide as he latched onto Zim’s arm.

“Get OFF!” Zim screamed, pushing him away and reclaiming his limb. “I wouldn’t expect a fake traitor to understand!”

The cannon began to charge, as did the weapons of the two aggressors. With a frustrated growl, Dib pulled out his own high powered stun gun, which needed no charge, and promptly paralyzed Carl and Hamford before tackling Zim to the ground.

“HEY! You stole my shot!” Zim protested as Dib pinned him to the ground.

He growled up towards the human who was looking down with a hard, concerned face.

“Unhand ZIM!” The Irken struggled against the grip that held him. “I WILL DOOM YOU! GIR HELP!”

“Just stop! Calm down!”

“THERE IS NOT CALM IN ZIM!!!”

“You’d better hurry up and find some because you’re so tired you can’t even budge me! Are you going to let some scary dreams keep you from defeating me?” Dib asked, falling back on his old reasoning.

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you, big head?” Zim narrowed his eyes. “Do not underestimate my elite skills! I– Hey!”

“That’s enough, all of you!”

Dib was pulled off of Zim by a math teacher, a science and literature teacher stood over the felled boys, and Professor Steinsson pulled Zim up off the ground, holding him by his upper arms and dangling him off the ground in a sound grip for such an elderly man. The vice principal of the school stood with her arms crossed next to the scene of the brawl, waiting until the other faculty members were able to get the spat under control.

“Why did you boys attack them?” the vice principle asked Dib and Zim as they waited for the nurse to arrive.

“THEY ATTACKED US FIRST!” Zim screeched, flailing in the professor’s grip. “And only DIB shot because he decided he needed to out excellent me!”

“No, I shot because you were using way too much fire power!” Dib shot back. “Just because you’re dealing with nightmares doesn’t mean you get to be a jerk! They have barely functioning toys, not real weapons.”

As if powered by the insult, Carl shakily pushed up on one arm. “It’s not a toy.”

“SHUT UP!” Dib and Zim shouted in unison.

“All of you, knock it off!” the vice principal demanded. “Now, what is all this about lack of sleep and nightmares?”

“ZIM IS FINE!”

“That would explain why his grades have slipped from As to Cs in the past two weeks,” Steinsson said.

“Your _puny_ letter designations mean nothing to my greatness! I could destroy you all!”

“NO! No destroying, no fighting,” the exasperated adult said. “This is why we pay a therapist. All four of you will have an appointment made, you will all take a three page paper explaining what happened today with you and talk through the incident and whatever else.”

“What is the therapizing that you all continue to assault my hearing with?” Zim asked.

“Oh my gosh…” Dib suddenly realized he had the world’s largest headache.

“A therapist is someone we pay to sort out your brain issues before you become a psychopath,” the vice principle said.

“Everything in that sentence is politically incorrect,” the literature teacher said.

“There is nothing wrong with Zim’s brain! I refuse to see the mind scrambler!”

“Either you keep the appointment, or we break out the hug log and prop you up in your appointment.”

“Is that legal?” Dib asked.

“You–”

“I BROUGHT BANANAS AND MILK!!!!!!!”

Cries of alarm erupted from the crowd as GIR stormed onto the scene with an entire bunch of bananas and a cow on a leash.

“GIR! Why did you do that?” Zim asked.

“Cause you said you wanted help so… I bringed it!” The robot pronounced with pride, shoving the bananas up towards his master.

“Okay, so that’s a great idea and all, but you can’t drink milk straight out of the cow,” Dib said.

“HMmmMMmm…” GIR tilted his head, appearing thoughtful, before giving a screech and twitching wildly. “I KNOW! The milk’s commin. EDA has it. This is Terry. He’s a boy cow.”

“Where did you get a cow?” Dib asked.

“I found it.”

“Yeah, Dib stink, GIR found it.”

Dib only rolled his eyes.

“I have arrived!” EDA waddled towards the group. “I bear milk that I have warmed to a suitable temperature for calming consumption.”

“Why do you keep letting him put stuff in you?” Dib asked his creation.

“It is in my code,” the bot said. “I possess the mighty need for warm beverages inside of my capsule.”

“I thought I took all that programming out?”

“There is a backup copy written into my hull.”

“Enough! Get the cow out of here and to your rooms until dinner. No clubs tonight and if you don’t go to sleep tonight, the nurse is going to assist you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the pause. My Tumblr mentions what's going on. Thanks for reading, I hope to keep on track for a while.


	14. The Doctor is in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim helps the school therapist earn her pay and perhaps a bonus.

“Okay, EDA, listen up,” Dib said as the door to his door room clicked shut behind GIR. “We only have three minutes before he finds that slice of ham and comes back so I need you to pay attention to your newest mission.”

“Yes, sir!” EDA replied, his processors ramping up to take in his orders.

“Good. Zim’s therapy session starts in twenty minutes and I need you to sneak in and send me a feed of what’s going on.”

EDA’s LED screen face frowned and he gave a concerned beep. “Sir, according to my online database that violates HIPPA laws.”

“Right, that’s why I had Zim sign this.” Dib produced an oddly folded piece of paper with Zim’s signature at the bottom and the hastily scrawled permission across the middle of the page.

“…Did Zim know what he was signing?” EDA asked after examining the less than legal document.

“Ye…” Dib stopped short of lying when EDA fixed him with a very critical stare. “Look, this is important and asking him directly isn’t feasible right now when he’s still so mad at me even after sleeping.”

“There is a high probability that such creepy actions will result in further damage to Zim’s trust.”

Dib’s jaw dropped at the accusation. He was quick to recover, stumbling through a spoken stream of thought while he worked to polish his reasoning.

“Has Zim been tampering with you or something? One of your initial objectives was to snoop on him. But if you need some kind of proof that this is necessary, just look at what happened that got us into this mess. Something is going on with Zim’s brain and he’s putting everything at risk by exposing himself and not thinking good. I need to know if this is a new side effect or if something else is going on. Since he won’t talk to me, I don’t have a lot of choice.”

“Zim has not tampered with my programming. My situational AI has reasoned through the best course of action given the input of data, leading me to conclude that Gaz’s suggestion of directly confronting Zim about his Tallests’ words has the highest chance of success.”

Dib sighed and rolled his eyes. “I get why you two think that, but just remember how upset he got when he learned they had talked to me for a few minutes! He thought they were trying to replace him with me for some reason despite how that makes no sense. Look, I get I’m going to have to talk to him about this before I figure out what’s in the syringes, but I need to know how to handle the situation. So, I need you to help me figure out what his deal is.”

EDA continued to frown.

“Think of it this way: What if Zim looses his temper in there? He’s never been to therapy before and who knows what he’s going to think of it. We need to watch him to make sure he doesn’t hurt her. The fate of the world… or at least Zim’s sanity which at this point is pretty much the same thing, is on the line.”

“Understood,” EDA said, still with a sour expression. “Is this a stealth mission?”

“Yep. And a secret, so get going before GIR asks you to help him with the distraction get well card I’m going to tell him to make.”

“YOUR PUNY ATTEMPTS AT INTERROGATION HAVE NO EFFECT ON THE MIGHTY ZIM!!!”

Dr. Maia had come into her position at the Tesla academy expecting the occasional megalomaniac, the typical depression and stress associated with high school and home sickness, and the anxiety that could rise in a child’s mind after years of lofty expectations from parents and peers. What she hadn’t expected was this situation she found herself in now; screaming student propped up on the back of the couch in her office, splayed out against the wall like a cornered animal, with spider like metal appendages sticking out of his back.

“Zim, honey,” pet names weren’t professional but they were a sign of her desperation to provide him with some symbol of her friendliness, “I’m not trying to interrogate you or make you feel unsafe, I just want to know what is causing you to lose sleep and lash out at others.”

“Honey? Zim is not the bee barf! Nor is Zim intimidated by your threats of cannibalism! The MIGHTY ZIM has trained for more solar cycles than you’ve been ALIVE to withstand the most vile and gruesome of torture without cracking!”

Maia jumped. “Torture?” she scrawled a few notes on her pad of paper. “Are you saying someone has tortured you before?”

Zim, who had only managed to get a few hours of sleep before waking up from the nightmares once more, scoffed in a manner reminiscent of a teacher fielding a question from a student they were certain was being purposefully obtuse. “Of course, I have. What sort of spineless smeet do you take Zim for? A powerful soldier must always be prepared to face the wrath of the enemy.”

“Can you tell me a bit about what happened?” Maia pressed.

“HA! Do you think Zim has the brain rot? Why should I help you in formulating your devious plans for my downfall?”

The psychologist sat silent for a moment, turning her options over in her mind. “Zim, I’m not going to hurt you. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine for now. Maybe we can try talking about your nightmares first.”

Zim huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and letting himself fall onto the seat of the couch with a dark look. “The Dib is a no-good false teller traitor who makes up things about Zim.”

Maia marked the changed position as a positive sign. “According to the teacher’s report, you also mentioned your nightmares during the incident.”

“YOU LIE! Zim is brilliant and perfect and in no way defective so it is impossible for the horror sleep visions to be anything but faky unreal illusions of DOOM!”

“I’m not implying that there is anything wrong with you. Nightmares, like other dreams, are the natural way our mind processes the things that have happened to us in the waking hours of the day.”

“Zim hasn’t had the horses of terror until coming here. It MUST be a devious plot.”

Maia scrawled notes quickly as Zim continued to open up. “Is that why you’re upset with Dib? You were getting along so well at the beginning of the school year. I thought you were friends from home.”

“Zim needs no friends.” His voice was dark as he stuck out his lower lip in a pout. “But the Dib was cutting down on his annoying Dibness to a degree that Zim thought he would be a minor ally. But GIR has caught him monitoring Zim’s sleeping and eating and the Dib stink keeps asking dubiously evil questions. No doubt it is a plot that he thinks I’ve fallen for.”

Maia gave a few silent moments for Zim to add any further thoughts as she skimmed over her notes. Paranoia, trauma, trust issues, nightmares, possibly guilt, hostility, and changes to eating and sleeping habits noticed by friends and family were all listed in a messy symptom column. Circled with question marks around the page were the tentative diagnoses of PTSD and borderline personality disorder alongside a few others that she hoped to look further into once she had Zim’s trust.

“That sounds concerning,” she said when it was clear the Irken was finished speaking. “Have you considered that maybe Dib is just worried about you? And that, in his own way, he’s trying to think of a way to help?”

Zim’s antenna twitched under his wig; his eyes drooping even as he tried to force himself to say awake. “That’s stupid. He’s just trying to find a weakness.”

“Making assumptions is one of the leading causes of terrible mistakes,” Maia warned.

Zim didn’t answer and a glance at the clock told the therapist their time was up.

“I want to thank you, Zim, for being open and honest with me. These sessions can feel a bit overwhelming and I think you did a great job participating. I do want to give you an assignment for next week: try sitting down with Dib and talking to him about your concerns. You might be surprised by what he has to say.”

“Next week? You mean I have to do this again?”

She couldn’t help a small smile. “Yes, until you start to sleep well and your grades come back up, they want you to come see me once a week.”

“Are you going to ask the same questions every time?” Zim asked.

“We can talk about whatever you want to next time, alright?”

“Even the stupid things my robot does?”

“If that’s what you want to talk about.”

“Are you sure? He’s pretty stupid.”

“I don’t know if I can believe that. Stupid is a harsh word, I like to think of people as thinking in a different way.”

Zim snorted. “No, he’s stupid, you’ll see, I’ll bring him next time.”

Zim pushed himself up off the couch. Maia stood up as well, extending a hand out to him.

“I look forward to it.”

They shook hands before she opened the door to let him out. An awkward and avoidant Dib sat in the chair, fidgeting with the string of his headphones as he waited for his appointment which was scheduled next.

“Come on in, Dib, thank you for waiting,” Maia said, cutting through the tension.

“Um, right, no problem.”

Dib sprang up and rushed into the office while Zim shrugged off the encounter in favor of heading back to the room to rest while it was empty.

“So, are you ready to talk about what happened yesterday?” Maia asked once she had closed the door and sat back in her chair.

“Actually, there is something I want to ask you about first.”


	15. Cathartic Smack Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim disappears from campus and goes completely silent. Dib grows worried, and guilt ridden, as Monday morning classes arrive with no sign of the alien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I show text conversations, the name before the colon is what the name appears as in the receiver's phone. Ya know, cause you don't normally have a nickname for yourself in your own phone.

After his own appointment with Dr. Maia, Dib had made his decision. He climbed to the top of the steps of their residence hall and approached their shared dorm.

“Okay, look Zim, we need to talk about…”

Dib’s voice cut off when he noticed the room was completely empty, save for EDA who was sitting on the edge of Dib’s desk.

“Where’s Zim?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” EDA replied, his posture drooping. “Both Zim and GIR were gone by the time I made it back. The only note left was from GIR and it’s a picture of a mongoose with snakes for hair.”

Dib frowned and looked around the room. The Voot Cruiser was gone from its normal spot in the shelf along the back of Zim’s desk, but all of Zim’s other equipment, save for his laundry, was perfectly in place.

“Well, it’s been a few weeks since he went to see mini moose and the pig,” Dib reasoned.

Pulling out his cellphone he tried texting Zim.

Stink Master: Listen Zim, I get I’ve seemed sketchy lately. I’m ready to talk about what’s going on but it’d be best if it was face to face.

Dib waited a minute, watching the messages from Maniac remain unchecked and unreplied to.

Stink Master: Okay, also I’m _sorry_ I let it get this far.

Three hours passed and there was no word from Zim or GIR; not even an automated message. Dib, a sinking feeling in his gut, attempted to call both Zim and the robot. When he still received no reply, he convinced himself Zim was pouting and proceeded to bury himself in the task of recalibrating every tool and weapon in his arsenal while complaining to Gaz about the treatment over text.

Panic set in Monday morning when there was no sign of Zim in the room. Homeroom arrived and Zim’s name was called for attendance and received no response.

“Where is your roommate?” Professor Steinsson asked Dib.

“I don’t know,” Dib admitted.

“What do you mean? Was he in the room this morning?”

“No.”

“Last night?”

Dib paused. “No.”

Steinsson’s face went from stern to concerned. “When did you last see him?”

“Saturday when he was leaving his therapy session and I was entering mine,” Dib admitted.

The students all began whispering. Dib wilted as the tone of their voices fed into some of his own darker thoughts.

“That’s enough gossiping,” the professor said. “Dib, come here.”

Dib did as instructed walking down from his spot in the risers with his backpack still on. He was pulled into the hallway as the professor unlocked his work phone and sent an emergency signal to the other staff; code ghost for when students were missing but they hadn’t been observed running.

“Had he gotten any sleep before the appointment?” Steinsson asked.

“He slept most of Friday evening. He only got up in the middle of the night to eat then went back to sleep until breakfast Saturday.”

“Does he have any history of self-harm or suicidal tendencies that you know of?”

“No, not at all,” Dib said, keeping the knee jerk jokes about Zim’s many failed projects due to his own hubris or lack of foresight to himself.

A clatter of footfalls approached their location. All teachers and staff not currently watching a class burst onto the scene at a trot. Dib found himself surrounded, repeating what he had already said twice over as the adults began to formulate a plan.

“Do you have any idea where he might be?” the vice principal asked.

Technically, it was against school rules to leave campus without your parents signing you out. The fact that none of them mentioned any record of him faking such an event was enough to tell him he hadn’t bothered.

_What if the pain attack struck? He might really need one of those shots, but there’s no way I can tell them and they couldn’t do anything to help anyway._

“Like I said,” Dib doubled down, “I haven’t seen him since Saturday and he hasn’t answered any of my calls.”

The teachers accepted the answer and moved away, talking through how they would handle the search. Dib knew they wouldn’t find him, and turned to go look himself. Or that was the plan.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Steinsson asked, bringing a large heavy hand down on the boy’s shoulder.

Dib groaned. “I need to help look for him.”

“And let us have two missing kids on our hand? No.”

Dib leaned away, pushing out from the hand that restrained him. “But how about yes?”

The ancient man sighed. “Look, Dib, I know you’re worried and you likely got the need to rush off and take matters into your own hands from your old man. But you can’t go now. If we had all the students running around campus, it’d just wind up in more kids getting hurt and Zim’s discovery being delayed. Or worse, some kid sees something they weren’t meant to.”

Dib grumbled but stopped pulling, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling.

“With everyone out looking, we’re going to be in homeroom all day,” Steinsson said. “But if they haven’t found him at lunch, I’ll let you run to any place you think he might have gone to look with one of the seniors.”

Dib conceded, despite knowing he wouldn’t be allowed to go where he thought Zim might actually be. Heading back into the classroom he sat down in his spot, leg bouncing as he frowned down at his phone while the professor tired to do what he could to get the class back on track.

Stink Master: Zim, the whole school is being turned upside down because you’re gone.

Stink Master: Look, I get it, you’re pissed, I’m a jerk, please just text me back you enormous bag of dookie.

No answer.

Mary: GIR where are you and Zim?

Mary: I’ll give you a whole ham if you talk to me in the next two minutes.

Not a thing. Dib’s empty stomach soured in the terror of GIR refusing to recontact even for an offer of food.

Dork: Gaz, we have an issue.

Terror: I swear, if it’s something stupid, I’m replacing your kneecaps with radioactive teacups.

Dork: I haven’t seen Zim since Saturday and he won’t answer his phone or his house and GIR won’t even answer for a ham.

Terror: o_o

Dork: Exactly! I can’t leave or I’d try to fly to his place but we’re on lockdown now that they’re off trying to find where he’s at.

Terror: Why would he have left?

Dork: I thought it was just to visit home since he hasn’t been able to the past few weeks due to crashing. But now I’m thinking he’s mad at me and not going to come back? But it’s not like him to just vanish like that except for that once time back in sixth grade, but at the same time he only took GIR and the cruiser and all his tech stuff and snacks are still in the room

Terror: Did you two have a fight?

Dork: Not directly, he was fighting with these other two and got mad when I wouldn’t let him vaporize them. He didn’t act out or anything after that and seemed fine when he left therapy.

Terror: Zim went to therapy? Did you record it?

Dork: Duh but that’s not the issue. The issue is he could be going through mega alien puberty at home and writhing in pain or something and I can’t get to him. Since middle school is a cake walk to sneak out of, especially without Ms. Bitters, I need you to go down to his house and make sure he isn’t compromised.

Terror: Geeze Dib, way to assume I don’t have anything important going on.

Dork: Gaz please

Terror: Did you ever have that conversation with Zim? You know, the one about the painful growing that you’re afraid he’s going though?

Dork: I was going to Saturday but he bailed! I’m sorry okay? I know this is all my fault and I’m a traitor and a bad rival friend whatever thing but seriously please help

Terror: Calm down Dib he’s probably just pouting. I’ll look into it but it might take me a bit.

Dork: Thanks Gaz

The lunch bell rang with no news and Dib felt on fire as he bolted from the class. Knowing if he was saddled with a senior, he’d never be able to leave, Dib planned to risk it all and take off before anyone could stop him. He powered through the halls, bursting out of the front door faster than most of the crowd.

“Hey Dib, wait up!”

The familiar voice of Ayo caused Dib to pause as he unfurled the flameless jetpack that was hidden in his book bag. Ayo and Rafaela were running towards him.

“Hey, don’t do anything crazy now,” Ayo said as they reached him. “Zim will be fine.”

“Look, I know everyone says that, but he might not be,” Dib said, backing a few paces away to prevent being grabbed again. “I need to check; he might need help.”

“Is this a mystery shot thing, or a him totally not being an alien thing?” Rafaela asked, arms crossed and foot tapping.

“Alright, so it’s kind of both,” Dib began. “I know everyone on campus probably…”

“DIB!”

The named turned around and looked up with a rush of relief as he heard that loud, well known scream.

Zim floated in the Voot Cruiser overhead, surprisingly still with his wig and contacts on. The front hatch of the craft with its Irken insignia was open and Zim stood on the seat with one foot on the edge of the opening with an enormous cannon gun propped up on his shoulder, devious grin on his face.

“ZIM YOU OPOSSUM BUTT DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA THE TROUBLE YOU’VE PUT ME THROUGH?” Dib shouted back as the rest of the students began to filter onto the plaza of the schoolyard to gawk at the sight.

“SHUT UP AND FIGHT ME, SCRUB LORD!”

Without waiting for a reply, Zim charged his weapon, lowering it to aim at his eternal foe. Dialing one of several unlabeled and nonsensical levers and a few nobs on the side of the device, Zim managed to launch a bright red laser out at Dib.

Quick with his reaction time, Dib zipped up into the air over the beam which left a small chipped spot on the ground below. 

“Whoops, that might have actually killed you,” Zim said before returning to his dials.

Dib didn’t allow him the time as he shot his own stun gun at his opponent. Zim blocked it with the body of his weapon before firing off a less lethal shot as the cries of “get the teachers” began rising from the less adventurous students.

“Dude, I get you’re pissed, let’s just talk about this before you get us expelled.”

“SILENCE EARTH BOY! WE TALK WHEN I STAND VICTORIOUS OVER YOUR LIMB NOODLE BODY!”

Dib ducked past another laser and aimed at the manic alien at a much closer range.

With the flip of a lever, the large shoulder mounted weapon released a burst of smoke. Dib fired three times into the thick white cloud but when the smoke cleared, Zim was gone.

“HI!!!!”

“GIR BE QUIET!”

The call was enough to clue Dib in on Zim’s location. He spun around and made eye contact with Zim hovering just behind him, GIR in the pilot’s seat. Dib increased the power output of his jet pack and sped towards the alien. Zim screamed and threw the first lever he could reach.

From the end of the barrel a warm frosted cake donut launched out and flew directly into Dib’s mouth as he sounded a charging battle cry. He pulled back the pastry with one bite taken.

“What the hell, Zim?”

“Yes, well, I took all the parts you REJECTED from the time space thingy and turned them into one superweapon to be your DOOM!!!!”

“And you had to use that big of a devise?”

“Are you impressed by my ingenuity or my stellar upper body strength?”

A warmth filled Dib’s chest as he realized how much he missed these antics. “I suppose you still think that could all fit inside the tiny reader.”

“SHUT UP WORM!” Zim was grinning his best diabolical grin. “EAT PASTRIES!!!”

Donut after donut began whizzing past the agile human as he dodged every one he didn’t decide to eat after his fifteen or so hour fast. The confused crowd that had remained to watch the spectacle didn’t hesitate to scoop up the ones that didn’t hit their intended mark as the teachers still hadn’t managed to be located.

“Yo, Dib!” Ayo called up. “If you dodge away, I can bring down that thing.”

“Thanks, but bad idea,” Dib said returning a few rapid fires. “His stuff has a tendency to blow up if you jostle it wrong. Like, crater blow up.”

“The NERVE!” Zim replied. “You just can’t handle my IRKEN MIGHT, PIG SWEAT! CHURRO POWER!!!”

Another switch flipped and the type of treat changed while continuing to reign down on their cheering audience. Feeling out classed, Dib reached into an inner pocket on his flannel and pulled out a different weapon. It was essentially a small, energy-based fireworks cannon but man did it look cool when he fired it off.

Their fight continued to escalate, Zim shooting balls of electricity at him once his dough reserves were empty and Dib raining down sparkling snaps of colorful energy as the crowds cheered and egged them on.

“We are in so much trouble, I hope you realize that,” Dib said, perching for a moment on top of the cruiser.

“I AM TROUBLE!” Zim retorted. “And you were already in deep dookie when this all started.”

“Yeah, look, I said I’m ready to talk about it.”

“PFT, of course now you want to talk.”

“Haven’t you seen any of the phone calls or texts?”

“Hunh? No, I left my cell phone here.”

“I’m going to…”

“PLAY!!!” GIR said, cutting of the rant rising in Dib’s throat.

He turned his attention to the robot.

“EDA’s really sad you’ve been gone. You should go talk to him.”

“MY BABY!”

GIR vaulted from the cockpit and flew off towards the dorm.

“GIR! GET BACK HERE! YOU CAN PLAY LATER!”

Ignored, Zim growled and looked up just in time to see Dib drop into the main part of the cruiser.

“AHH! NO FAIR!” he objected. “Poop breath get off!”

The ship thrashed about from side to side, forward and back as the boys traded insults and elbow jabs as they attempted to gain control of the ship. Dib won the scuffle, setting the cruiser down roughly away from their audience near the school pond.

The force was enough to jet them out and onto the muddy banks at the edge of the water.

Zim looked in disdain at his muck covered jeans and shirt sleeves. “YEUCK! I JUST washed these!”

“Well, if you don’t go off grid and make me think you’ve gotten into trouble again then you’ll have all your clothes here to change into,” Dib snapped back, shaking the mud off his own hands and onto the front of Zim’s purple “Cruising the Stars” tee.

“HEY! This is my favorite shirt!” Zim shoulder checked Dib, sending them tumbling over.

“Augh! This is my last clean flannel!” Dib complained.

“Well, now you know how I feel.” Zim proceeded to mush his muddy hands against Dib’s face as he writhed.

“Hey, you deserve it after letting me think you were rotting in the bowls of your base in danger or pain or something.”

“And why should that be a concern to me, hmm???”

“UGH!!!”

Dib sat up, pushing Zim off and into the mud.

“Look, I was going to tell you Saturday but…”

“HAAAAaAaaaaAAAM!!!”

GIR swooped onto the scene, EDA in tow, and slammed into both Dib and Zim, sending them tumbling into the pond which had a steep drop off on the side they were on.

Zim screamed and floundered, covered in his paste shield yet still wholly unable to swim. Without wasting a second, Dib paddled up to him, adjusted them so Zim was over him, and pulled the cord for his emergency life raft, also built into his backpack. In a matter of seconds, the yellow inflatable took the strain off the pair and Dib let Zim roll off to the side in the small craft.

They coughed and panted as the raft drifted towards the middle of the pond, coaxed by the anti-mosquito agitator.

“Well,” Zim said once they had caught their breath. “Are you going to tell me or what?”

“Yeah,” Dib said, futilely attempting to dry his glasses on his soaked sleeve. “I was going to wait until I had it figured out, but that might be impossible.”

“What are you talking about?” Zim turned his head to stare quizzically at the other, his wig falling the rest of the way with the movement.

Dib waved his hands defensively as he spoke. “Well, I mean, your Tallests aren’t really trustworthy, you know? Like, I still don’t get their deal. They show up after the Florpus, long after we had assumed them dead, and things with them just went… back to normal? Like, I honestly thought they’d be livid and pushed to the limit this time but, it’s like you pulled your normal shenanigans and it was just back to business.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, it is my normal shenanigans,” Zim said.

“Zim, you not only almost wiped out earth but potentially killed both of your leaders.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Zim said under his breath, his antenna drooping.

Dib flinched and looked at his companion who was staring up at the blue sky overhead and the few clouds that drifted by. 

The moment was broken as Zim perked up again. “It’s not a big deal. My tallest love me and are beginning to see my use for the empire.”

Dib only frowned more. “See, that’s another thing. They’ve been nothing but terrible to you the entire time I’ve known you and you still insist that you have a great relationship with them and will do anything they tell you to.”

“Eh.” Zim waggled his fingers dismissively. “If I did _anything_ they said I’d still be banished on Foodcourtia. Zim does what they need him to do even if they don’t know it yet.”

“Dude…”

“Don’t question me on my relationships when you’ve been keeping secrets from the mighty ear holes of Zim!”

“Oh hey, speaking of secrets,” Dib said, a part of the conversation he was about to discuss springing to the foreground of his mind. “When were you planning on telling me you were an adult?”

“Huh? What do you mean? I brag about how much older and advanced in learning I am than you all the time,” Zim said. “Plus, with the life expectancy of my flesh parts compared to one of you puny humans I’m only in my late teens maybe? You look me in the purple contact eyes and tell me you thing I’m a grown up.”

“You’re the same age as your leaders.”

“And you think they are adults? We both suffer from the brain issue you _dad_ talked about that one time.”

Dib rolled his eyes. “What brain issue? And why do you say dad like that all the time?”

“BECAUSE, DIB, it’s a weird word. And the brain thing about it not working good until 25 or something so you don’t have a lot of control over your stupid.”

“Oh. Well, that would explain how they flew right into the death portal.”

“See, they’re just as dumb as me and they could have avoided that trap entirely.”

“Well, I still don’t trust them. They are terrible to you; make you cry and feel like dookie. And the whole thing about them getting me involved in this smells fishy. So I was going to try finding out the truth or if they could be trusted before I talked to you about it.”

Zim snorted. “That’s dumb. There’s only a handful of non-Irkens in all of space/time that actually know anything about Irken biology. Even if we fail to activate our own self-destruct, our PAKs will melt down and take us with it if someone tries to get into it the wrong way.”

Dib let out a breath through loose lips, puttering away his frustrations.

“Okay, so–”

A robot hand clamped onto the raft and reeled the boys in to shore. Professor Steinsson stood over them, harpoon gun in hand, glaring at them as the other teachers rushed to join them.

“Detention, both of you.”

“That’s fair,” Dib said.

“Now get up, you have to go to the nurse’s office,” he barked.

“But I need to”

“MARCH!”

Zim and Dib were separated to get their sides of the story and lead away, so close yet so far to their needed resolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer chapter today. And comedic foils to an easy solution to their problems. :P


	16. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality can be a smack in the face.

“So, the Tallests say that Zim is going through growth spurts like theirs?” Zim asked, seeking clarification.

It was a few weeks after their fight and the middle of October. The school did not mess around when it came to dealing with leaving, causing a search, fighting with potentially lethal weapons and all the other crimes they stuck the boys with. Dib and Zim had been banned from clubs for two weeks, made to stay silent in the detention room until dinner and for half of each Saturday, and attend a mandatory coping skills class with about seven other troubled students in the evenings. They were so emotionally and physically drained by the end of each day that only had the strength to gripe about how unnecessary it all was before passing out for the day. Even Sundays were spent playing games at the Sunday Mixes that the campus held; a way to ensure the students had a healthy and active way to spend their free time.

This meant that their first Monday free, after they had caught up with their robotics team and finished their homework, they were finally talking about what had caused them so much trouble.

“Something like that. They didn’t imply it would make you as tall as them, but they did imply it was a similar process,” Dib replied.

“And it’s going to hurt.”

“Debilitatingly.”

Zim sat at his desk, his antenna twitching, and a far away look in his eyes. The sounds of one of his machines working to analyze the contents of one of the syringes was the only noise for a few minutes. GIR and EDA had made a trip into town for a snack run as Dib had wanted no distractions as they finally tackled this subject. Zim agreed shockingly quickly.

“And I don’t suppose my Tallests explained why the didn’t tell me this directly?” Zim asked.

“If they had I wouldn’t have spent the last few months in a panic,” Dib replied.

“You still should have said something,” Zim said.

Dib sighed. “Yeah, I get that.”

Further conversation was cut off by a reading printing out of the machine. Zim peered at the slip, a series of calculations running across his eyes, before his green face went greener and a pallid clamminess spread across his skin.

“That is a lot of pain juice.”

“Like a lethal amount?” Dib questioned.

Zim took a deep breath that shuddered tellingly as it left his lungs. He shook his head.

“No. Irkens can’t die like that. Most poisons are ineffective. There are only three known that can harm us, and I’m the only one who knows of two of them as they are derived from Earth creatures. There is no way to program the PAK or our systems to lie about it as they take so long to act that there is a high likelihood of spreading the contamination to other Irkens.”

There was no hint of questioning or patronization in the way Zim spoke those words. Even Dib could feel unquestioningly that it was the final nail in the coffin in his theory of them attempting to rid themselves of him through that means. Which begged the question.

“What’s wrong then?”

A fight was going on: Zim was desperately attempting to shake the feeling of dread from himself. “It’s just… Zim has an acute sense of self-preservation to keep my awesomeness intact. I can often override this for the sake of my mission but… the amount of medicine in here is more than what is administered for a broken bone. More than several. The number creates a need to escape that burns in my squeedly spooch… but there is no escape.”

The finality with which the words were delivered was more serious than anything Zim had shown to Dib before. Somehow, from only a chemical signature, Zim seemed able to preemptively experience what was to come.

“Why would it hurt that much?” Dib asked. “And how is it not more common knowledge if someone like a fry cook can go through it?”

The question snapped Zim out of his daze. “What is this nonsense which you speak? This is not due to my foodservice coding.”

“I’m talking about Sizzlor or whoever,” Dib clarified.

“Sizzlor did not go through the same thing,” Zim said. “The ‘Fry Lord’ is his own kind of broken.”

When no further explanation was offered, Dib rolled his eyes.

“You’re gonna have to explain that better if you want me to understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand,” Zim said. “PAKs like balance and it is a common tactic for some Irkens to consume extra rations to encourage the PAK to allow for more height to counter out the roundness, though Zim has never pursued this method as there are many dangers. It is a stupid thing to try as it doesn’t work well and is easy to overdo like Skooge. Sizzlor overdid it but his PAK kept compensating and driving him to consume more as it broke in a loop demanding to perfectly cube his being. Some think he got grease in his PAK or something. I tried to fix it, but he wouldn’t let me.”

“Don’t Irkens die if they don’t wear their PAK?” Dib asked. “Like, we had an entire life lesson around that?”

Zim waved his hand and leaned back in his chair. “If you don’t have it off more than three minutes every six hours, you’ll be fine. I do it all the time.”

“You take off your PAK? Do you do stuff to it?”

“MmHmm.”

Zim let the legs of his chair clatter back down onto the ground and reached around to his back. He pulled off his PAK and brought it around front.

“See here? This is the panel to get inside. You have to press seven other things to not set off the alarm, but I found them without issue. Once inside, Zim simply explored at first but over time made improvements and repairs.”

Zim replaced the device as soon as he was finished talking about it.

“Are you supposed to do that?” Dib asked.

“Of course I am,” was the reply. “I wouldn’t know how otherwise. Zim was never a PAK mechanic yet I know about them. Sizzlor is just stupid and stubborn.”

Dib wished he shared Zim’s easy confidence. He was grateful that at the very least the alien seemed intent to believe him and take this seriously.

“The question now is, what do we do about this?” Dib asked.

“What can be done?” Zim shot the other a weary smirk. “Zim cannot run from my own growth. We will need to be vigilant.”

“I meant about the Tallests. Don’t tell me you’re just going to shrug everything off again.”

Zim took in a sharp breath, mouth open, but stopped short of replying. His fingers twitched as he held his breath, thinking on what to say or how to say it.

“They don’t want Zim dead,” he firmly declared with a heavy exhale.

Now it was Dib’s turn to preemptively prepare to speak.

“Let Zim finish, puny Earth child. My Tallests do not want Zim dead, even with what growing might mean for their rule. They would not give the warning and the shots otherwise. But…” another look of pain crossed the alien’s face. “Zim will admit, some parts of this smell like… less than fully honestness…”

It looked like the Irken was preparing to vomit. “My Tallests need me now. Not for Earth, but these projects. If Zim can prove useful, they might remain interested. They are scheming such brilliant, devious things… But Zim is not to be taken lightly. Zim is made for schemes. Every word, every thought…. I will be victorious. I HAVE to be victorious. If they lose interest… No, ZIM WILL NOT DIE!”

The desk chair clattered as it fell back.

“No no no”

“Hey, Zim, calm down,” Dib said, jumping up from his own chair, a deep frown plastered across his face.

“I can’t die, they said I won’t, they said it was okay…” Zim’s body twitched as he continued to rant.

“Who said? Look, maybe if they said so before, this is just a bad misunderstanding.”

He didn’t know why, but Dib felt his first task had to be calming Zim down, even if it took reinforcing those lies. A part of him said it was stupid, dangerous, that it would lose them progress; but with nothing else to do, he tried.

“That’s in my programming, survive survive SURVIVE!” Zim said, wringing his hands.

“You’re fine, Zim, they don’t want you dead, remember?”

Dib grabbed onto Zim’s shoulders, desperately wishing he better knew how to handle this situation.

“We have eight more things to fix before we have to worry, and we’ll figure it out by then.”

Zim blinked. His head tilted and he looked up at Dib. A few more blinks and he righted himself. The fidgeting stopped and some of the direness left his features.

“We will figure it out.” The phrase sounded like a question, an answer, a realization, and bewilderment all at once. “Yes. We will survive, it is in our programming. We must and we will.”


	17. Bad Signal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim is testing the waters with his Tallests with gifts and covert questions. Dib arrives back late from his CAFY meeting, bearing translated signals and bad news.

“What did you say this thing was again?” Purple asked as he looked over the schematics that Zim had sent to the Massive.

“It’s a Mega Awesome Snack Attack Gun!” Zim said as he held his original version in his lap, his legs swinging as he sat on his desk chair. “I know it wasn’t one of the things you asked for but it uses all the concepts Dib striped out of the reader. Only the BRILLIANT Zim, of course, made it better by enabling it to create fresh snacks as opposed to just warming them. Do you like it?”

Zim leaned forward onto the large metal contraption, his eyes eager but with a trepidation, a searching they were not used to seeing in him. It had taken a few days for Zim to make this call after conversing with Dib about the shots and the possible conspiracy. He had secretly wanted Dib to be in the room for the call, but Thursday’s CAFY meeting was running late and he wouldn’t make things too obvious by waiting.

“This actually looks like it might be fun,” Red commented, a small half-smile lighting up the eyes that were starting to form bags. “Maybe the crew won’t complain as much if we start hurling donuts at them.”

“How did you come up with the idea?” Purple asked. “And does this say the laser is fatal?”

“It can be fatal if set too high. However, I was in a rush with this one and didn’t install a numbered dial,” Zim explained, pointing to the now properly labeled knobs and leavers. “And I came up with the idea for a mostly nonlethal weapon while fighting with the Dib-stink.”

Red looked up from the plans, his frown back. “You’re fighting with Dib? Are you not on fair terms anymore?”

“Huh?” Zim tilted his head. A chill went down his spine, a static feeling forming in his mind. “No, we are good now. He was just being a pain and Zim was frustrated with his puny avoidance tactics.”

His Tallests were both visibly relieved, giving each other a reassuring shoulder bump and coded antenna wiggle. He had never managed to decode it, but it hadn’t taken Zim long after transferring to the military academy to catch on to what they were doing. He had always been jealous of that fact, if he was honest with himself (which he rarely ever was): that they were so close. The only other Irkens he had seen with such a bond were the last Tallests and the ancients. Others his own age seemed not to care and happily served the empire bonded only to their SIR unit or most sentient primary job tool. It was just one more thing that made him wonder…

“Well, if you’re back to getting along, that’s good,” Red said. “Anything else to report?”

“Um… No, not really… Did I say there was a Pax Grey also observing the school?” Zim asked, remembering the obviously named Grey from his Fringes of Science club.

“What’s he up to?” Red asked.

“I think he’s attempting to gauge human preparedness for the cross over,” Zim said. “They are getting close to it.”

Red pulled up a diagram on the computer panel in front of him. “You think they’re close?”

“If not now, then once Dib and Gaz become adults with the university degrees, they will be,” Zim said. “Is that why you are afraid of us not getting along?”

“No,” Red dismissed the idea without hesitation. “I was worried because he has been let in on some very hush hush sorts of Irken things.”

“Yeah, try to keep civil or we could be in big dookie,” Purple commented.

Zim sat up, not having to pretend to be surprised they were telling him this. “Can Zim know the secrets?”

There was no giggling, no winking, no sign of any mischief as the two leaders looked at each other than back to Zim.

“You’ll know soon,” Red said. “It’s best not to worry about it in the meantime.”

Zim relaxed. He felt his muscles ease, even as he crinkled his face and stuck out his tongue. “Fine, the mighty Zim shall wait.”

The door slammed open and Dib rushed in.

“DIB!!! You are late!” Zim scolded.

“Sorry, but we were onto something huge and it might be a problem,” Dib said.

He threw his backpack onto his bed and stuck his thumb drive into his computer, pulling up what CAFY had been working on since the second meeting he had attended.

“Okay, now see… Oops.” Dib had turned the screen and then himself to face Zim, noticing the active call at that moment. “Did I interrupt?”

“No, no, we had pretty much settled it,” Purple said.

“What’s the problem?” Red asked, seeming to adopt his working face.

“Right, so I’ve been tracking this signal for most of the year coming from Pisces. It seemed to be getting closer, but I was having a hard time with the code. Others in one of my clubs had also picked up on it and we were finally able to crack it. It was triple encoded!” Dib explained, pulling up a side by side comparison. “What we discovered is alarming, they seem to be called Hive Escorts, though we have determined they aren’t a hive mind.”

“Worse,” Red interrupted. “They are a military offshoot of Zeta Greys; a nasty kind that attempts to enslave others by installing an artificial hive mind. They abduct a handful of young of the species, implanting the seeds of the mind and releasing them to grow and breed. It takes five generations, but then they start to activate.”

Dib’s jaw hung open, even Zim seemed shocked.

“Awesome,” Dib said. “That matches up with the details of a capture mission. I wasn’t planning on taking this sitting down, but now I know we can’t.”

“NO ONE takes over this planet!” Zim exclaimed. “ZIM will NOT ALLOW IT! But how do we manage to fix this? Should we just meet them before they reach the planet?”

“I would say that if they didn’t have two ships,” Dib said, crossing the room and pulling the accordion folder with their promised projects for the Tallests off the back of Zim’s desk and rifling through it. “We are going to need more tools than what we have if we are going to take these guys on.”

Dib pulled out three different plans and slapped them on the desk.

“I thought about getting in touch with the Order, because this seems like an _adult thing_, but other than sending me to Mercury that one time, they haven’t really been that much help,” he commented, pushing his glasses back up his face. “I also think it will take the FBI too much time and red tape, and put us in jeopardy if we use them.”

Zim opened the first file, plans for a combined Signal Jammer and Signal Mimic tool that was actually made by a different Irken than the last two plans, hopefully making it easier to fix.

“How long do you have?” Purple asked.

“I still have to calculate that with the time/space tool to figure out where they are and how they’re moving through space.” Dib went to his closet and dove in looking for their version of the small devise. His muffled voice continued to talk as he flung things around. “We have enough of the data to reliably pinpoint their XYZT coordinates for each message, so it should be a plug-in equation.”

The second folder Zim examined was a Ship Scrambler. It was a grub-like thing which didn’t need a direct connection. Any contact with the inner wiring of a ship’s panel would make it work, if they could get it correct. It would delete all Space Positioning System data except the home world or mother ship and then cause the ship to go on a disorienting and irregular flight until they were so lost, they had to just go home.

“The only problem is,” Dib said as he burst out from his wardrobe, pulling a shirt out with him as he started to boot up the small devise. “I don’t think we’re going to have time to do all this ourselves.”

The last set of blueprints were for a gun whose blast would cause disorientation and prevent the formation of new memories.

“Why would you not just blow them up once you drive them away from the planet?” Zim asked as he put together what Dib was planning. “That way we can incinerate the worm spores.

“I don’t want a war until I know Earth is all on the same page and can fight back,” Dib said. “Plus, I’m only almost fourteen, I’m not exactly comfortable with the idea of mass killing people.”

“Even though they’re coming to kill your race?” Purple asked.

“Since I think we have a way to play this, yes,” he said. “But I’m leaking all this stuff to the FBI after it’s done and we take anything that might lead them here off the files. They need to start figuring this stuff out.”

“Well, just make sure you don’t die,” Red said.

Zim looked up, an awed look on his face. Dib scoffed.

“Really? What’s with the sudden change in attitude?”

“Yeah, I get it but this is the first time that you might actually die,” Red said, a hint of color reddening is face. “Just shut up and let us know if you need any supplies. _I’ve_ got a snack gun to build.”

The call cut out and Dib had just enough time for an eyeroll before the reading printed out. He frowned.

“What is it monkey breath?” Zim asked, recovering from his own shock and approaching where Dib stood to look at the data.

“According to this, we have less than two weeks, they’ll be here the day before Halloween.”

“TWO WEEKS?!” Zim exclaimed. “But we have three presentations and two midterms coming up next month! We can’t not do homework for two weeks!”

“Zim, even if we ditched classes, we wouldn’t be able to do this all in two weeks,” Dib said, his face strained.

They looked at each other, worry melting to resolve as they nodded and began gathering what they would need.

The next day, Friday, and exactly twelve days out from the coming raiders, Dib and Zim stood before the members of Unity, their multi-faction club. After the fight in front the the entire student body, the members of this club, with the instigation of Rafaela who had the most knowledge of what might be going on, had surrounded the pair and forced them to come clean about their history together and what had prompted the fight.

The club was small, and after the busy bodies and complainers had dropped out due to the club not having a strict enough focus, those who were left felt more like they were having friend hang outs as opposed to club meetings. It made it much easier for Zim and Dib to come clean about the aliens, the medicine question, and why they had been upset with each other.

Grey, the very obvious alien from Zim's Fringes of Space class who was also in Unity, had also been a help that day. He revealed that he was a Pax Grey to the others, which made Zim feel safer about going against his training to reveal his identity. The members of the group besides those three; Ayo, Rafaela, Leola, Conner, Merle, and Ricky; were very open to the news, especially since most had already guessed, and things had gone back to normal.

“And that’s why this is so important and we need your help,” Dib summarized, finishing the info dump of the emergency. “We really can’t do it on our own.”

The members looked back in silence for a moment: all seemed to contemplate what was told.

“Man, WE don’t even have a peace treaty with the Zeta Greys,” Grey admitted. “They are a nasty offshoot of the species as a whole, some question if they are even the same as the rest of us anymore, and if they went to the Pisces region of space to prepare this strain of spores, it’s going to be much worse than normal.” 

“Well I think that if we work TOGETHER, we can TOTALLY WIN!!!” Ricky declared, standing up on their chair and posing with confidence.

“Right,” Leola agreed. “But where do we start?”

Dib pulled out the envelopes with a sly grin. “Well, we didn’t come without a plan.”


	18. Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The members of Unity take time to look over their projects and turn away some unwanted attention as they work towards defeating the nearing threat.

Dib yawned and rubbed at his eyes as he pushed into the out of the way clubroom for Unity. It was Monday and he and Zim carried dinner for themselves and the other seven members of their group into the room to minimize time lost on their projects.

“Do not start with the sleep breathing, Dib,” Zim scolded before being taken over by his own yawn. “Look! See the infestation you have brought upon us!”

Dib only stuck out his tongue at the other, placing his portion of their load on a small side table that was too miniscule to be occupied by the multiple projects they labored over.

“Food break,” Dib declared.

The other members found places to pause, washed the grime off their hands in the classroom’s sink, and rushed towards the table.

“It’s nice that the school is so lenient on allowing students to take food away to ‘study’,” Rafaela commented after they had each taken their portion.

“Right? I think the idea is that students will skip or eat only cup ramen if they don’t have the choice to take it away, especially during midterms and finals,” Ayo explained. “Though, they will get on your case if you do it too much. Can’t let anyone be that much of a loner.”

The others agreed before digging into their meals with a rushed relish. Silence over took them as they shoveled the sustenance away. 

After a few minutes, Merle broke the silence. “Do we want to do a status update while we eat?”

“Do you have an update to report?” Zim asked around a mouthful of ham and cheese bake.

She nodded. “We’ve completed the main shell after discarding the flammable materials and rewiring. It shouldn’t burst into flames anymore. Now Ricky and I are focusing on compiling what we know of their language and encryption methods into a program to accurately mimic their signaling so we can change their landing coordinates and isolate them from one another. Conner has been focusing on the actual chip that we’ll be using since there isn’t really anything readily available here that we can use.”

“I’d say I’m a quarter way through building and three quarters through the conception,” Conner jumped in. “I’ll admit it’s kinda difficult using unfamiliar tools.”

“Just remember to tell that YOU’RE in charge!” Ricky said. “BUT also, say please.”

“Yes, Irken AI can be very fickle,” Zim admitted. “It took an overhaul of their programing just to allow for so many strangers to utilize them in the first place. That’s normally a HUGE not good thing.”

Their contribution explained, the baton was passed to the Grub Scrambler team of Ayo, Rafaela, and Leola.

“I’ve not only managed to successfully grow a few of the bioware parts of the contraption,” Rafaela announced, “I was _also_ able to figure out that two of the chemicals they were attempting to feed it mix to for NOX when the doses are given too close together. That would be why they have been exploding when the chips are added.”

“Wow, that seems… likes something someone should have figured out at some point,” Dib commented. “I’m starting to think the whole ‘everyone tried to make these projects stop exploding’ has a very loose interpretation of ‘everyone’.”

“Mmhm,” Zim agreed. “Most of the scientists probably don’t have time to fix others’ mistakes right now. But I’m significantly less time-impaired normally.”

“I didn’t know Irkens had such a casual approach to invasions,” Grey commented. “Or had intelligence gathering missions not focused on takeovers.”

“Eh, they kinda don’t,” Zim said. “They just wanted me out of their antenna after I had escaped banishment on Foodcourtia.”

“You got banished?” Leola asked.

“I may have accidentally not checked to make sure I had left the home planet before I began attempting a conquest,” Zim said, narrowing his eyes.

“Wait, is that why Impending Doom One ended in three days?” Grey asked, a half smile on his lips.

“Mmmmmm…. Yes.”

“Gosh Zim, that’s too bad. But things are better now, right?” Ricky asked, eyes wet with tearful sympathy.

“Of course! Zim has been entrusted with many important tasks now that my Tallests have need of my many skills.”

“That’s cool, man,” Ayo said after a questioning glance to Dib received a tentative nod. “And hey, I think the info from Grey’s people and your mysterious contact will ensure we have a good shot at giving them a great product. The program chip is coming along great.”

“How did you get a member of the Resisty to be so forthcoming with information?” Grey asked.

“Don’t question Zim with that tone of accusation!” Zim said. “He owes me for reasons. Also no one likes Zetas.”

“I’ll give you that,” Grey commented. “Figuring out those gaps in our data on the way Zetas have physically diverged from the other classes of Greys to make sure this memory wipe works is going to be tricky. Maybe even worse than sorting out the mess that this Qubert fellow entangled into a single gun.”

“Yes, he is excellent at terribly adding more than is necessary,” Zim said.

“I’m impressed you didn’t drag your feet the entire time we tried pulling out the sparklers and smoke machine,” Dib commented, elbowing Zim gently in the ribs.

“Don’t push me!” Zim whined before nudging the other back. “Also, I’ve learned that expanding my project list with realignments of his excess provides me with a better list of gifts for my Tallests. I can make toy guns with color sparks and smoke.”

“So, do you get commission on these projects?” Rafaela asked.

“Hunh?” Zim tilted his head, brow furrowed as he sorted out the question.

“Commission is when you get paid for completing something like a project or sale or any other one unit of work,” Dib explained.

“OH! The no, we don’t do that,” Zim said.

“So, when you send them these extra projects, you don’t even get money for that?” Rafaela asked as her frown grew.

“Yeah I get money, but not commission,” Zim said. “Irkens get a monthly stipend based on their job description and a percentage of the sales of any products they invent for the empire which is calculated by sales price and how many people are on the team. Zim isn’t super big on business, so it’s easier to hand it over to my Tallests for marketing.”

Dib stopped, blinked a few times, and pulled out his modified phone. Turning on his access to the interplanetary net, he brought up the space bank account he had established after earning a reward with Zim for saving a colony of Blobs from the Jelly Harvester attack that threatened to wipe them out.

“Is that what this is?” he asked, showing Zim a string of deposits he had been attempting to figure out.

“Oh yeah, I thought the deposits seemed weirdly small,” Zim said.

“Also, aren’t you still being paid as a food service worker?” Dib asked. “Why didn’t you ever get that fixed?”

“They overwrote my funds to an invader stipend after I kept calling them for taquitos every three days,” Zim said.

“Every three days?” Conner asked.

“GIR is a bottomless pit,” Zim explained.

“He is,” Dib agreed, throwing his Styrofoam food container into the trash. “Anyway, now that that’s sorted, I think we’re making decent headway. If only we could figure out which hive spore/worm things they were brining.”

“We’ve narrowed it down to five,” Grey said. “They keep their worst ones out by the Pisces sector of space, but humans would only successfully combine with those particular ones. If we can make a tool that can burn at over 750F and freeze down to -25F, we should be able to handle anything they have in there.”

“That’s still a huge range,” Dib complained.

Before anyone could continue the train of thought, a knock was heard at the door. Panicked and questioning glances passed from one to the next. Another knock, more forceful, and Dib took a deep breath before walking over to the door and cracking it open.

“Narcís? What are you doing here?” Dib asked when he saw the senior who lead their robotics club.

“You and Zim rushed out very early today,” Narcís said. “And when you didn’t stick around for dinner either, I grew concerned. After learning your tendency towards understandable mischief during periods of stress, I was looking to see if there was a way to assist before things got out of hand. I would hate to have the two of you absent again.”

“Oh, well, thanks?” Dib decided it as meant to be a concerned gesture. “But we’re good, we just had something come up that we’ve been trying to work on that we need to get finished before Halloween. Once that’s finished, things will be back to normal.”

Narcís raised an eyebrow. “Halloween? You mean the second most common day for mischief in the school year?”

“Second?”

“The Monday of finals week is the worst.”

“I guess that makes sense. But it’s not a prank or anything! But it is important.”

The pristine senior looked down his nose over his thin glasses. “I apologize, Dib, but am I really meant to just take your word for it?”

Before Dib could respond, he felt the door pushed further open. A warmth at his back told him it wasn’t Narcís trying to get in, so he let the door swing open, wondering how much of a hole Zim was about to dig for them.

“How about me? Can you take my word for it?” It was Ayo that had come to Dib’s aid.

“Ah, Ayo, I didn’t realize you were also here,” Narcís said, his body relaxing from the looming position he had been building. “Then, I suppose it’s far less likely they’ve gotten themselves into trouble.”

“You’d better believe it,” Ayo smiled, but there was something sharp in his eye. “I don’t make a habit of stirring things up. Unless I have to.”

“Of course, now that I know they are not brooding alone, I feel much better about the situation. I didn’t mean to trouble you, just keeping an eye out.”

“I got it, no biggie.”

“In that case, I’ll be taking my leave,” Narcís said. “Do take care and enjoy your little games.”

He turned and walked away.

The group was silent until the door was latched once the senior was out of sight.

“What was that all about?” Leola asked.

“Just a fox sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Ayo said. “Welp, we’d better get back to saving the planet.”


	19. Operation Spore Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team descends on the enemy ships, eager to save their home from a fate worse than death.

The moon hung high overhead in the midnight sky. It was the day before Halloween and black and orange strings of lights and decorations of haybales, pumpkins, mums, and scarecrows created a festive atmosphere for the next night’s planned celebrations. From the shadows of the dorms a pair of eyes scanned around the open plaza between his location and his goal.

Nothing stuck out. Not a leaf or a branch was out of place and no obvious new obstacles interrupted the scene. Dib took a deep inhale and dashed from his spot, ducking down behind a bale of hay and waiting with bated breath. No noise other than the rustle of the wind greeted him in the silence. Satisfied that no well or ill meaning senior was trailing them (Dib couldn’t really tell which anymore and Ayo seemed to consider it a distraction to their task at hand), he gave a nod to the others who made similar dashes for the next bit of cover as they worked their way towards the wall that secured them onto the campus grounds.

It wasn’t ideal conditions, in fact this was the most stressful of situations they planned to be in for the night, but there was no way that they could get all nine members of their group and the equipment they needed into the Voot cruiser which was technically still in the school’s custody after Zim’s unauthorized trip home. So there they were, in the light of a full moon, darting across the grass and behind buildings until they reached their exit point.

Every entrance into the school had a camera trained on it. Every door had a sensor to tell if it was opened or closed just in case the camera failed. Every sensor had a tampering alarm to alert if someone was trying to disable it. They had been planning for days how to get past it.

Ayo lined up a long air gun towards the camera and in three quiet pops, each camera was frozen on the last image recorded and would be for the next six hours. That finished they sprung from their positions and descended upon the oldest and most worn door on the wall. It was slated for replacement within the next two weeks and was perfect for their needs.

From Zim’s pack a laser emerged and started to fire. The hinges and nobs and wires were tamper-proof, but the door itself was free of any tricks provided you could get through it without jolting the door frame. With a faint puff the door center landed in the tall grass on the other side of the emergency exit after they emerged, Ayo and Connor lifted it back into place, securing it with temporary plaques of metal.

“Is everyone’s communicator on?” Dib asked, barely whispering as he eyed the external cameras they had tampered with earlier in the evening.

A round of affirmation came and he nodded. “Right, then be careful and we’ll see each other soon.”

Nine hands met in stack of solidarity before they split into two groups and took off into the trees surrounding their school.

Dib and his group of Ayo, Conner, and Merle had the farthest way to go. They rushed to the train station in the nearby town and praised the one night the train managed to be on time as they hopped illegally onto the caboose as it pulled out of the station. Their destination: an abandoned town a fifteen-minute train ride out of town and into the redwood forest near a dark open plain. The derelict houses should fool their targets long enough to allow them to board their ship.

Zim’s team or Leola, Rafaela, Ricky, and Grey headed in the opposite direction on a bus to a manmade lake. They had the larger group in the small chance contamination fell into the closed off water source and they found themselves needing to purge the waters. There also stood empty summer homes along the shore which would serve the same purpose as the shacks on the plains. A reported gas leak was how they were positive the homes were empty.

Once they made it to their respective sites, Grey and Merle set to work assembling their signal jammers. The pieces slid into place with solid clicks and the system came online.

“I’m up, are you?” Merle asked over her headset.

“Roger that,” Grey responded. “Target in sight.”

“Confirm you have the one on the right,” Merle said as she refined her focus on the left ship, picking up a reading asking for the other ship to confirm their sights.

“Affirmative,” Grey said. “Online in three…”

“Two…”

“One.”

They both flipped their switch just as the reply was being sent from the right ship to its companion. On board, each ship’s primary communications expert gave a few nervous clicks as the static came over their lines. With a few flipped switches, the techs sent a request to the other ship, now directly received on the signal replicator below, to confirm if the line was open.

Using prefabricated responses, Grey and Merle hailed the ships and began putting their plan into action.

“Affirmative, interference has been resolved. Do you have sight on the cause?”

Both ships, of course, returned negative responses before asking what the other thought they should do.

“We will divert to a new location. Stand by for route calculation.”

Relief cascaded over the group as both ships confirmed their approval of the plan without argument. After a few seconds to add realism, they sent the coordinates. Just as they were approved, they sent one final message.

“Potential threat spotted, requesting divergent course to prevent further interference.”

For not being a hive mind, Zetas proved very good at trusting each other and very bad at recognizing uncharacteristic behaviors. Through binocular sights, Zim and Dib watched as the ships, black triangles against the night sky with three lights at their points, sped away from one another at the bottom edge of the atmosphere and made a straight line to their locations.

Their targets on the move, the boys strapped on the remainder of their gear. Helmets covered their entire heads with tinted visors and air filters that could be activated when needed. They each had on a pair of the hover boots they had crafted that summer and utility belts with their equipment. Each had three of the grub devises in canisters, their memory scramblers, and two temperature changing guns, one that burned to the 750 degrees that would kill some of the spores, and the other that would freeze down to -25 degrees in case that one odd spore out was used.

“I still don’t understand why you two are doing this by yourselves,” Rafaela said, arms crossed over her chest. “Shouldn’t we send in an army to fight an army?”

“Well, it we HAD an army, then sure,” Zim said as he stood at the ready. “But since we have two people who have made attacks like this before and seven who haven’t, this arrangement is less of a liability.”

“Hey, I have some combat training,” Grey protested.

“Well you have to make sure they can’t call for help or dump spores in the big lake.”

“Woah!” Ricky interrupted, awe in their voice. “Check that out!”

Both groups quieted down as the noiseless ships pulled into view. A deep-seated instinct stirred, causing them to pull deeper into the shadows around them.

“Arrived. Your location?” The ships hailed as they came to a standstill.

As the attack team raised off the ground with hover packs, the ground team signaled back.

“Minor delay due to aircraft. Standby.”

Latching onto the ship’s hulls, Dib and Zim both managed to slip into a ventilation shaft, emerging in the empty entry room of their respective ship. Wasting no time, they approached the control panels next to the doors and began to remove the covers.

On a ship with one primary computer to control all functions, the grub disrupters were particularly easy to deploy. After all, any wire leading to the main computer would work and the empty onramp was unlikely to be considered as a hiding place. 

That part of their task done, they clung to the ceiling and began to make their way across it, passing only two guards who were quickly memory disrupted before they continued on to the spore room.

Zim frowned as he looked over the area. Almost half of the crew must have been in the chamber. Half was six but still, it was enough to cause problems going forward if he did not take precautions.

From his perch in the rafter wires of the near pitch black room, Zim took his weapon in hand and steeled his nerves. He was the greatest invader Irk had to offer, after all. With precise aiming, he sniped the three nearest targets, taking advantage of the minor paralytic effect the weapon offered, and dropped down to rush the computer near the worm spore holding tank. Luckily it was up and displayed its information for all to see.

“Flame gun it is,” Zim said before taking on the next wave of Zetas.

Dib had also steeled himself as he prepared to rush the crowded room of eight, taking a minute to observe in detached horror the obviously inhuman yet further still almost impersonal Zeta greys. Out of all the creatures Dib had encountered so far in the reaches of space, he had never seen so many who looked more like avatars on a corrupted video game than actual living creatures.

Their eyes took up nearly a third of their head, their mouths practically non-existent. He wasn’t sure if they could hear or smell ether as unlike Zim or Grey, they simply didn’t seem to have a place for them to be located. What wasn’t taken up by a thick spiny skull held the brain and the beginning of their spine.

Due to the colossal weight of their heads, even as they were only around the size of a toddler’s, their necks were almost as wide as their skulls to keep them upright. In contrast was the near absence of their torsos, meaning their organs had been even further reduced. Their limbs were proportionately long, though they didn’t reach any higher than Zim’s original height meaning their length was a subjective matter. Their grey skin was still thick and spiny, clearly altered to protect what was within.

_Grey was right, these are their own species now._ Dib thought as he swung down from the ceiling.

Chirps of alarm went up from the group as this stranger fell into their midst, towering over them. As they tried to gather themselves, Dib began to fire at them, picking them off one by one as he moved towards the computer. They weren’t about to let him have easy access and once their initial shock was overcome and the numbing feeling left their limbs, the Zetas began to unload their own attacks on this intruder.

Zim wasn’t fairing much better. Laser blasts zipped past his head, hardly dodged as he forced open the holding box and sent his inferno into the space.

Screeches erupted as they realized what was happening, the Zetas shooting faster, not seeming to feel safe coming any closer.

“HEY!” Zim shouted as a blast skimmed across his shoulder, singeing the fabric of his protective jumpsuit. “You almost hit me!”

An annoyed trumpeting carried some wordless sarcastic remark as the shots kept coming.

“Well, this isn’t working,” Zim commented as another shot nearly hit. It would take fifteen minutes of exposure to fully finalize the destruction of the spores, yet the probability of his now larger body keeping up the rigor was unlikely.

With a grunt Zim pulled out a flash grenade, grinning at the unprotected eyes of the creatures in the dim room.

Dib fought through the smoke in his room, the agonized screams of the Zetas filling the air after the light of the midday sun seared their eyes. He double checked that his respirator was functioning before he opened the container and began billowing near plasmid fire onto the spores within.

A few of the enemy were shockingly quick to recover, shakily firing on Dib’s position and coming perilously close to success. While dodging the sluggish and light scarred creatures’ attacks, Dib’s finger slipped off the trigger for a fraction of a second before he regained control.

“Not good,” he muttered as he watched one Zeta inching questioningly towards an alarm.

He only hesitated a second before pulling the ice gun off his belt and sniping the Zeta with it, its legs going stiff from the blast.

The chaos only increased as they now scrambled to avoid his ice-creating weapon.

Zim’s gun sat wedged in the gap he had made to insert it into the chamber, its trigger frozen with ice to the spot as Zim took on his recovering foe. Their skin was strong but their muscles were nearly non-existent as they were kicked and tossed into the walls, machines, and each other. The occasional blast flew past Zim’s helmet, but he remained in control.

“HAH! Do you really think you can take on THE MAGNIFICENT ZIM?!”

A timer began to beep, signaling the time for the burn had passed. Zim rushed back, retrieved his devise after chipping the ice off its trigger, threw his second grub into a crack in the nearest computer and gave one final kick to a rising Zeta before dashing out the room and towards the bridge.

Dib panted on the ground as his signal went off. He relaxed his strained trigger finger and looked at the rigid Zetas on the ground. It had taken over five shots per creature to hold them still on the floor, though he now worked unopposed as he let his second grub fall into the computer of the laboratory section and strolled out the door.

Rising on the power of his hover pack, he sped towards where the ship’s navigator, captain, and other officers sat in the bridge. He had successfully quelled any attempt at alerting them, which was confirmed by their terror as he blasted into the inner room of the ship.

Sixteen more Zeta gremlins opened fired after the initial shock, Dib rolling and dodging across the ground as he returned fire. Unarmored, unaugmented, the creatures stood little chance with their weaker forms and quickly fell under Dib’s barrage.

Zim panted, shaking beads of sweat out of his eyes as he leaned temporarily against the main computer of the ship. He was _so tired_. It was unexpected, confusing. He had never felt run down half way through a confrontation before.

With a frustrated growl he smashed open the last grub container and dropped it into a crack in the machine. He heard a protesting cry as he set them to begin their work in sixty seconds. He didn’t mind, after all, this one may as well have been a distraction.

Zim shoulder checked the rising combatant as he raced away from the bridge, needing to get out before the transport began.

“Zim, come in!” Dib’s voice came over the communicator. “I just made it out, are you good?”

“Of course!” Zim replied as he vaulted over a poor attempt to block his way down towards the exit. “Zim is approaching–”

His words were cut off and replaced by a low grunt. One of the scientists had found a weapon, an anti-gravity propulsion mechanism. Zim crashed to the ground as a steel barrel full of the nutrient liquid their kind consumed slammed into his back.

A string of Irken expletives sounded in his mind as he struggled to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him. 

_I HAVE TO LIVE!_

With a snap, Zim pushed up against the object pinning him. It flew into the air as he scrambled to his feet. With eyes wide as blood and a myriad of overwhelming signals from his brain and PAK coursed through him, he caught the barrel in his arms and slung it across the area into his charging attackers.

Cries were cut short, a small part of him remarked in the haze that he couldn’t tell Dib about the leaking fluid that spread across the floor as the rest of him propelled himself across the floor and out the vent seconds before it ignited and carried the ship away.


	20. Halloween Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween and Zim and friends strive to have fun even as their alien pal seems to be taking a downward plunge.

“Come on dude, it’s almost eleven,” Dib said, gently rocking Zim where he lay. “Lunch is in half an hour and you already skipped breakfast.”

The alien groaned as he lay on his stomach, pushing his face into his pillow. It was Friday and Halloween. The school had a big party planned for that night and the school building was closed so seniors and teachers could set up for the event. It was a lucky break as Zim would have been sent to the nurse’s office by now if he hadn’t had the day off from classes.

“’m cold,” Zim whined, burrowing deeper under his covers. “Sleepy.”

Dib’s frown deepened as he looked over his friend. “Are you sure your scanner worked right and you don’t have a broken spine or internal bleeding?”

Zim, only his mouth sticking out from under the covers, scoffed at the idea. “That has happened before and I have recovered. This is just slow because of the stupid grow sickness.”

“Maybe, but I still want to look at your PAK to make sure it’s not cracked or anything.”

“HEY!” It was a quiet shout for Zim as the covers were pulled away, exposing him to the open air.

Dib ignored his protests as he lifted up the hem of Zim’s hoodie and a long-sleeved shirt to expose the area.

“Ah geeze,” he muttered. “That’s a huge bruise.”

The dark green spot took up almost half of his back, starting underneath the pack and spreading in a circle around it. The unit itself was untouched, but the discoloration from pooling blood, even after Zim had spent the night on his stomach, was enough to make anyone cringe.

“Feh, it’s fine. It should be gone by tonight. Mostly anyway,” Zim insisted as he pulled down his clothes and twisted around with a wince to grab at the covers. “I’m just cold and tired and also hungry.”

“And you have no intention of getting up, do you?”

“I’ll get GIR to make me something from the fridge.”

Dib sighed. “No, you need something better than snacks and noodles. Today’s lunch is taco pizza and pumpkin cake. If you really can’t get up, I’ll bring it to you. But you have to promise you’ll try to get up for dinner and the party.”

“Mm’K,” Zim said as he settled back in to the returning pocket of warmth, his eyes already shut.

Dib stared for a moment, a hundred thoughts and a thousand uncertainties clamoring through his mind. Shoving the excess noise aside, he walked towards the bunk beds, pulled his own comforter down and added it to the pile of cloth already weighing down Zim. He received a small chirp of gratitude and turned to head towards the cafeteria.

Nine o’clock at night rolled around. The sun was casting out a few final rays of reddish orange light as the night neared. The school plaza was packed with the entire student body, decked out in costumes and excitedly hopping from one stall to the next, laughing and dancing and taking pictures to post online or text home.

Zim stood in his Irken uniform, only a half inch too long for his legs, with his contacts and wig gone. He and the other members of his friend circle sipped on hot apple cider or hot chocolate in the crisp autumn air while deciding what to do first.

“And you were all worried for nothing,” Zim declared, puffing out his chest. “Yet again Zim’s superior wound healing ability proves capable of fixing anything.”

“Are you sure?” Rafaela, dressed as a ghost bride, asked. “You’re super pale and that’s definitely a sign of internal bleeding.”

Zim shook his head. “It is merely a side effect of the extra blood processing. It will be gone in the morning.”

The others looked at each other, silently plotting to keep a close eye on him through the night.

“Attention student’s it’s time for the first apple bobbing contest!” One of the teachers announced over a loud speaker.

“Ooh, contest,” Zim exclaimed, starting to quickly walk towards the event tent.

Dib, dressed as a vampire, followed closely behind while the others made their way at a more leisurely pace. This meant that only the boys plus Leola and Conner, dressed in matching haunted rag doll costumes, had room to enter the first round.

“Alright, you haunted brats,” Professor Steinsson barked. “The goal is to pluck three apples as fast as you can. The stems are gone, and your hands are tied behind your back, so there will be no cheating. Yell done once you’ve gotten them out, the first three out of the ten of you will get a prize. Everyone keeps their apples when you’re done. On your mark, get set, go!”

As he spoke the rules, Dib and Zim exchanged a competitive glance and grin. When the timer started, the boys plunged their faces into the frigid water, vying for the first place spot. Neither managed to get it; they didn’t even place. They had inhaled a bit of water by mistake while trying to taunt the other when they plunged in for the final strike. The teachers raced to them as they coughed underwater while Leola was busy taking first place while Connor came in second. Though, by the teacher’s reckoning, Zim’s head with his third apple emerged a whole three seconds sooner than Dibs, causing him to gloat as he spit up water from his lungs.

“And you’re sure you’re okay,” Merle, dressed as an eighties neon zombie, asked once the boys had emerged from the tent. “Didn’t you mention being allergic to water?”

“No, it’s a dissolved solid found in most earth water,” Zim explained. “If it’s filtered, it’s no big deal, and I think they ran it through something or used those big things from the store.”

“How do you know that?” Ricky, dressed as a rainbow unicorn, asked.

“Because I’m not burning inside.”

“Oh, how cute!” the exclamation turned their attention towards some freshmen girls who were cooing and taking pictures. “A puppy and a little butler!”

GIR, in his clean dog suit, and EDA, in a tiny butler jacket and bowtie, smiled and posed for their audience.

“So… does that means the good boys gets a treat?” GIR asked, pushing his paws together and twisting back and forth bashfully.

“Aw, of course!”

The group of four girls each gave each of them a fun sized piece of candy. The robots shouted thanks before running off happily.

“Well, at least they’re not beating small children and stealing the candy,” Dib commented.

“Yes, Zim is making progress with those safety upgrades,” Zim replied as he devoured his three apples.

“Yo, they’ve attacked children before?” Ayo, dressed as a skeleton, asked, deep concern in his voice.

“Not EDA,” Dib clarified.

“Not often,” Zim claimed. “After he stole a baby from a parent who actually paid attention to their children last Halloween, I’ve made a chip to prevent that from happening again.”

“You mean he did it more than once? Are you sure you don’t need another set on eyes on his programming?” Ayo looked mildly horrified.

“No, it’s better now.”

“Okay, so no offense or anything but what kind of town did you live in where you could just steal most babies without repercussions?” Leola asked.

“One time Zim took organs from every student in the building and replaced them with random objects so he could go to the nurse’s office for head pigeons and not only did she not react to the fact that he was overflowing with extra body parts in all the wrong places, nothing was ever said to him about it once he put them back and he just kept going to school like nothing had happened.”

The group had stopped and were staring incredulously at the pair.

“First of all, what the heck is head pigeons, and secondly, how did no one die?” Conner asked.

“Head pigeons is when a pigeon gets into the school and nests on your head. They don’t come off without medical intervention,” Dib said.

“And no one died because Zim is an expert at item/organ swapping. It was uncomfortable for a few hours but everyone was fine.”

“Dude,” Grey, also walking around as himself, said.

“Line up for the cake walk!” The announcement cut the conversation short as Zim’s eyes widened at the mention of more food.

“It’s not as big of a deal as you think,” Dib said with a shrug. “It was crazy at the time but it turned out well. It’s par for the course in our area. Once, an invasion of mutant lice born from a queen louse as big as an adult human invaded the school. We were the ones who helped save some of the students from becoming egg sacks and also the staff realized Zim’s skin killed off the infestation and they literally shaved parts of him off and dusted the students with it. It’s a weird place.”

Dib power walked to catch up with Zim who was already waiting in line while the others remained dumbfounded.

“What do you MEAN they shaved off his skin and sprinkled the other students with it?!” Rafaela called out as she and the others followed behind.

There were enough pies, cakes, and cookies for everyone to take one. Mostly students scrambled to get their favorite treat before it was gone.

Zim hummed as he shoveled a slice of sugar cream pie down his throat, his apatite seemingly larger than ever.

The final outdoor event planned was a hayride around the school yard across a candle lit path. Off in the distance blue fires were spotted, holographic ghosts wandered, and a display of headstones, scarecrows, and other monstrous sights elicited laughs and overexaggerated screams from the girls riding with their boyfriends to excuse them burying their faces in their crushes’ chests.

“Zim does not understand the courtship ritual of screaming and hiding your face around fake not scary things.” Zim tossed his empty pie box into the trash.

“It’s an excuse to get more publicly intimate than is normally socially acceptable in public,” Merle commented. “Have you two talked to the counselor about those stories you were telling us? That’s a pretty big deal.”

“No,” Zim said. “I thought it was normal for human education compounds.”

“Not going to lie, until I got here, so did I.” Dib shrugged.

“Master!” GIR sprang from nowhere, latching on to Zim’s chest. “Guess what?”

“Be careful GIR!” Zim scolded. “Also, what?”

The dog costume’s lifeless eyes stared at Zim and the night sky while seconds of silence passed. Before Zim could tell him to spit it out, GIR screamed.

“There’s SO MUCH POOP COLA in the street box!” GIR declared. “Can I GETS some?”

“Street b– you mean the dumpster? No! I just washed your disguise all those cans will be empty anyway.”

GIR’s face, his eyes dripping tears, poked out from his outfits mouth. “But I needs my Poop Cola. I NEEDS it!”

“Not from the trash,” Zim insisted. “Here.”

From his pack, a can of soda emerged and he handed it to his robot.

“Now stay out of the trash!”

“YAAAaaAAaY!!!”

The robot jumped down and raced away with his prize.

“No offence but like, aren’t SIR units supposed to be smart?” Grey asked.

Zim frowned and puffed out his cheeks. “GIR isn’t a SIR unit, he’s an advanced model without all the bugs worked out yet.”

“Are you sure?” Ayo pressed.

“Yes, I’m sure! He has impeccable actions while in duty mode. I just can’t seem to get him to be there without being all… murdery.” Zim squinted his eyes and waggled his fingers as he listed the description.

“Alright, we’re about to open the haunted house!” the principal announced. “It will take time to get through, there are ten rooms each connected by mazes and a prize for each student hidden inside the rooms, if you can find them. You can enter in groups of four and quit at anytime by calling out in the maze or taking the marked exits in the rooms.”

“Aw, only four per group? But that’s going to leave an odd man out!” Leola complained.

“Don’t worry! I want to go through with the same team as last year to see who screams first and loudest,” Ricky declared. “I’ll catch you tomorrow if you head to bed first!”

They ran off after receiving a chorus of farewells from the others who quickly split into two teams. Dib, Zim, Ayo, and Rafaela went in first while Conner, Leola, Merle, and Grey waited to follow after.

The maze walls were made of black curtains hanging over the many portable white boards the school had. Black lights and bright white spotlights lit the alternating sections with odd angles as smoke machines created a murky atmosphere. They might have been frustrating if Ayo hadn’t suggested using the left hand method.

The rooms themselves were cheap but well put together. The treats matched the themes as well as the jump scares they laughed about as they searched around the rooms for their prizes. The Zombie Disco had retro candy bars, the Electro Nightmare world contained fruity nineties favorites, the Neon Fright Zone had bottles of marble soda and so on.

They made it through the first nine tasks with ease, continuing through the Yōkai Mansion, Alien Attack room, the Jungle Mayhem, Fairy Forest, Dracula’s Mansion, and the Inverted Reality room where everything was colored like a photo negative and lit with black light.

“This is an easy spook place,” Zim said, stifling a yawn and rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ve seen more dire frights in a fueling hub between two distant points of space.”

“I can imagine, gas stations on Earth are their own little worlds at the right time of day. I can only imagine it gets weirder in space,” Ayo said as they trailed through the final section of the maze.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Dib said with a shudder.

Zim gave a disgruntled groan as he rolled his shoulders and fell further behind the group. He had been a step or two behind since Dracula’s Mansion, but as he stopped to yawn and attempt to ease his sore back, the gap only grew.

“Alright, we need to check your back to see if the bruise has gotten worse,” Rafaela said. “You slept until four and it’s only midnight, you shouldn’t be this tired.”

“Psh, I’ve been tired like this before. It’s not my back, it’s the growing.”

“I am not convinced, just let us check if you’re so sure it’s fine.”

“Please, Zim,” Dib said.

The Irken rolled his eyes but relented in the dim space. He was not going to be nagged any more that night, he was too tired.

“Is that better?” Rafaela asked as she looked with concern at the dark veiny lines that spread out from Zim’s ports.

“Yeah, this whole area was bruised this afternoon,” Dib confirmed. “The vein pattern is kind of weird, though. And leading straight into his spine.”

Zim rolled his eyes and zipped the rear zipper back up. “How else is my body supposed to carry away and reabsorb the blood if not through my veins? Also, the extra blood from the expanded veins is healing it faster. That’s what makes Irkens heal so fast, and why I’m pale and tired everywhere else. And also hungry.”

“You’re still hungry? You’ve had three apples, and entire sugar cream pie, and all the mini candies they handed out before we came in here,” Dib said as they started making their way forward again so the other group wouldn’t catch up.

“Um, that much sugar alone can make you sick, and tired,” Rafaela mentioned.

“It’s actually not entirely the same for Irkens. They have a ludicrously fast metabolism unless they do nothing at all for a period of time while over eating. When we first met, all he would eat was sugary snacks and the occasional Irken sandwich. And those are just processed protein and vitamin infused concoctions on white bread to keep them functioning.”

“Eaugh.” Rafaela curled her lip in disgust.

“Don’t worry, Zim is full of sugar. I won’t eat until I get back to the room and heat up some of the taquitos.”

Before she could protest that those were nowhere close to better, they found and entered the final room, the Cartoon Easel. It was filled with cardboard furniture covers in sepia tones and heavy black border lines. It looked like an illustration of an antique animator’s room in the early days of cartooning.

“Wow, I really like this one,” Ayo commented as they snooped around for their last hidden prize box. “They put a lot of effort in here.”

“Yeah, it really EEP!” Rafaela jumped back from the closet she had just opened as a tall paper puppet fell out into the open on a fishing line on an electronic real.

Her heart hammered as she laughed off the jump scare. As the line began to retract, she turned to point it out to the others.

A scream prevented her. Not just a scream of fear, but one of sharp pain.

Opening a crate on the side wall, Zim encountered a prop skeleton that sprang up from the crate, nearly hitting him in the face and sending him reeling backwards to avoid it. He lost his balance and landed hard on his PAK.

“Zim! Are you okay?” Dib asked, running over to the Irken who lay on the ground, his breath hitched and struggling.

_Too much damage to PAK, dangerous situation._ “Must protect PAK, must survive.” Part of the robotic thoughts speeding through Zim’s mind slipped from his lips as Dib pulled him forward, off of his re-bruised back.

“Okay, we’ll help you back to the dorm and lay you on your stomach so you don’t get hit again,” Dib said.

The erratic, half vocalized, dialogue continued.

_Pain eminent, _“find shelter.” _Insufficient precautions, _“overriding temporary coding.” _Remember your true duty. You _“can’t fail,” _Zim, you will not be punished, you have a greater purpose. _“I’m sorry,” _my Tallests._

The mixture of memories and PAK instructions jumbled in his mind and drowned out all shakes, calls, and offers of help from the others as tears trickled down his face.

“We should just carry him,” Ayo said. “Do you have someone you can contact for this.”

“I’m gonna have to trust those tall morons he calls leaders,” Dib said begrudgingly, changing his hold to carry Zim by his arms.

“AAH!!!” Zim let out a cry and his entire body went stiff. His eyes blew wide, his spine arched, and his limbs curled in as he began to shake.

“Oh no,” an icy dread settled in Dib’s gut as a panicked heat crept up his spine. “Is this it? Right now, really?”

Zim only breathed rapidly, unable to open his mouth to speak.

“It probably is,” Rafaela said. “Pass him to me or tell me were the needles are.”

“I’ll do it,” Dib said, static terror making his face numb as he passed the groaning Zim over to her as Ayo supported his lower half.

The black case came out of its hiding spot at the bottom of his candy bag. He pulled out the first syringe and gulped as he uncapped and primed it. Dib unzipped and pulled back Zim’s outfit to expose his upper arm, making eye contact as he prepared to put all his faith in this needle and the out of character actions of two juvenile leaders.

There was none of the simple trust staring back out of the Invader’s eyes; only fear and uncertainty.

“Hey,” Dib said softly, surprising himself as his words flowed. “They wouldn’t really kill you, remember?”

Zim’s breathing slowed by a fraction and his eyes seemed less dissociative for a moment. Dib took his chance and plunged the needle in.


	21. Dumb Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, GIR manages to contact the Tallests on their private line. Which winds up being a blessing as Zim's state is far from stable.

“And the ham was the milkshake ALL along!”

Purple and Red looked at each other, too baffled to be angry. They stared at the small, cyan eyed robot in his green dog suit, waiting to see if he was finished. When he actually stayed silent for more than three seconds, Red seized his chance.

“Yeah, that’s great and all but…”

Purple interrupted. “HOW did you get Red’s PRIVATE communication number?”

GIR frowned. “Hmmmmmmm.” He tapped at his head with fist. “HMMMMMMMMMMMMM???!?”

They watched as his mouth open, his eyes changed into duty mode then back to normal in a flash, before he shrugged. “I DON’T know…”

Red had seen the change and felt a sinking in his gut. “Where’s Zim?”

“Oh Zim?!? He’s ats a candy party for HALLOWEEN. Look at all dis loot!”

Zim shot a fountain of bite sized and full-sized candy bars, apples and, thankfully sealed, drinks while running around in circles.

Red rubbed at his face, his headache from haggling with the planet snatchers returning.

“Yeah, okay, look, I don’t know how you got this number but I also know I’m not getting it out of you now so I’m going to hang up–”

“NOOOOOO!!!!” GIR screamed, causing both Tallests to jump.

Before they could make sense of the outburst, the door to the dorm room slammed open. Dib and Ayo carried in a groaning Zim.

“Is that Zim? Did the thing happen or did he get attacked by a nutrient drum again?” Purple asked, straining to see on the small phone. “Red you really need to break down and buy an upgrade for this fossil.”

“Hey, is that the Tallests?” Dib asked, stopping half way across the room and looking at the screen. “Hang on and stay on the line until we get Zim in bed.”

Red and Purple looked at each other before the screen’s view changed view. The boys were busy easing Zim onto his stomach and covering him, but if they had been watching the call, they would have heard the Tallests declare to only send emergency messages by video and audio-less texts and that they were going to be doing something important. This was followed by the sound of rushing air and several closing doors.

“Hey, if you need anything, let me know,” Ayo said, placing a hand on Dib’s shoulder. “You’ve got my number.”

Dib nodded and pushed out a “Thanks” between his wildly racing thoughts.

As the door clicked shut, he turned and sped towards the monitor of Zim’s screen.

“Did they start?” Red asked.

“I think but I don’t know?” Dib said, throwing his hands up into the air. “Yesterday we did that raid and Zim took a massive steel drum filled with some liquid square to the PAK,” Dib smacked his fist into his other hand for emphasis, “This morning he wouldn’t get up and was complaining he was cold, and there didn’t SEEM to be any cracks in the PAK but there was this HUGE bruise over half his back and he kept brushing it off, no big deal, then we looked at it tonight and instead of a bruise these big veins leading into his ports were visible. I kept telling him it didn’t look good but he wouldn’t call it in or anything. THEN a skeleton hit him in the face and he fell back onto his PAK AGAIN! Then he closed down into pain so bad it locked him into place and he couldn’t move!”

Dib had to stop to catch his breath, his puffing gasps not as good at drowning out the groans and moans escaping from Zim.

“Did you give him the shot?” Red asked.

“Yeah, but like, he started screaming something about his coding being overwritten after he was hit the second time.”

Despite the small camera on Red’s phone, Dib could make out the startled look the pair shared.

“Well, don’t worry about the coding thing,” Red said, his voice not sounding fully convinced. “It’s a um…”

“Temporary protection override!” Purple finished as his coleader fumbled.

“Yes, right, that. What does the bruise look like now?”

Dib turned back to Zim and pulled away the covers.

“Nyo… warmth,” Zim whined as the air invaded his pocket of insulation.

“I know, dude, I’m sorry,” Dib said.

As expected, the impact to the veins had created a massive pool under Zim’s skin once again. Dib tried not to let Zim hear him groan as he replaced the covers.

“It looks like it did this morning,” Dib replied.

“Okay, and when did he last eat?” Purple asked. “And how much.”

“He’s been eating non-stop for the past few hours. An entire pie, cider and hot chocolate, three apples, a bunch of candy.”

The Tallests disappeared from the screen for a moment, the sound of buttons pressed and rummaging heard over the speaker.

Red reemerged with a handful of things. “GIR, I need you to listen very carefully.”

Dib watched in stunned curiosity as the leader began to rattle off a series of letters and numbers in a dialect he had only heard a few syllables of before.

GIR listened, his head tilted, and when the sequence was finished, his antenna began to blink.

“Okay, now open the window and put the tiny robot near it,” Red instructed.

The actual sight of Zim in pain was overwhelming enough that Dib did as he was told without question.

“Now stand back!” Purple said somewhere off screen.

In less time than what Dib thought feasible, a fiery asteroid drew near to the school, the case breaking away so that only the package entered the room while the capsule disintegrated. As Dib took up the box, GIR’s lights returned to normal and he returned to his typical dorky self.

“More shots?” Dib asked, his eyes widening. “What are these for?”

“The first one is a healing accelerator, the second is a muscle relaxer and the three big ones are nutrient injections. He’s going to need more than sugar for the injury and the growing.”

Dib pulled out the five vials. “There are no needles.”

“I know,” Red said. Raising his voice, he called across the room. “Zim! Name, rank, mission.”

Dib’s brow furrowed as he watched the pained alien turn towards the monitor and attempt to raise himself on his elbows as tears squeezed out of the corner of his eyes.

“I am Zim, my rank is Classified Special, and my mission is to assist my Tallests and the Empire.”

“Very good. And you will submit to our orders to fulfill your duty?”

“In all proper things, my Tallests.”

Dib started to speak, a red-hot ire building in his stomach as he heard the submission through gasps and held breaths.

“Good, the human is going to assist you. Open the lower delivery flap.”

Zim collapsed back down on his pillow and Dib heard a mechanical whirr as something on his PAK opened.

“Don’t get yourself worked up,” Red said before Dib could begin to rant. “He’s in an emergency defense state, the only way to get him to respond is to override. Now you’re going to see three holes in that small panel, a small, a large, and a needle tip between them.”

Dib hesitated for a second before deciding he had no choice and pealing away the covers again to expose the pre-installed IV line.

“The bruise medicine with the blue label goes in first.”

Dib uncapped, primed and inserted the vial into the small slot. The PAK made a few sounds as the liquid slowly drained out of the bottle.

“Next is the muscle relaxer.”

The second injection when it. Zim’s breath began to slow and, despite the constant shaking, his limbs began to unwind and the lines of clenched muscles began to subside.

“Now those last three are going to take time, they can’t be sent in all at once.”

As they waited for the vial to empty, Dib started to fill the silence with questions.

“I still don’t get why there’s so much secrecy and second guessing. If he was going to need this stuff, why didn’t you send it before?”

“Because this whole thing is stupid weird and I don’t know what to do!” Purple said.

Red clarified. “Normally, those who grow due to genetics or special programming come in twos. Honestly, we didn’t think this process would start until Zim had a pair but if there was any protocol for making Zim a twin, the instructions were lost when the last two died and took their private passwords with them.”

“So you need someone else to trigger it? Then how did this happen?”

“Probably you,” Purple replied.

“Me?”

Zim’s PAK pinged, telling him to switch to the next vial. Dib was pleased to see the shaking had begun to slow to the occasional twitch.

“Well, since your species grows naturally, and Zim’s been with you for so long, interacting with you and others your age might have been enough to alert the PAK that it needed to begin the growth process.”

“So what does that mean for things in general? Is Zim going to be messed up or shorter than he’s supposed to be or something?”

“We honestly don’t know yet,” Red admitted. “Irkens don’t typically play nice with other races enough to form bonds with them, let alone so close as to substitute in for a twin. Honestly, most Irkens younger than us, and a lot of those older, don’t GET twins anymore.”

Dib clicked the final vial in place as Zim gave a whining groan and stuffed his face into his pillow.

“What do we do from here?” Dib asked, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “If I started this, can I change or fix it somehow?”

“When it happens normally, the growth bursts happen in a staggered pattern. Have you been keeping track of your own height?” Red asked.

“Yeah, once a week or so.”

“Not good enough. Every morning from now on. We need an estimate about how fast you grow to predict how long this process is going to take for Zim.”

“Okay.” Dib made a note on his phone before pulling out the last vial, the flap shutting on its own, and hiding them in the crack between the bed and the wall. “Hey, Zim, you feeling any better?”

Dib tentatively touched the other’s shoulder. Zim had become more mobile, groaning and shifting as the last dose was given.

“stillil hurs… m’cold… gonna bloat and fly away…”

Dib recovered him, deciding the muscle relaxer must have gone to his head, and let himself feel a bit of relief that the worst seemed to be over.

“Is that it, then?” he asked, looking at the screen, his entire body suddenly leaden and drooping.

“There is one more reason for the bursts to be staggered apart from a protection instinct,” Red said.

Dib yawned. “What’s that?”

“The twin also tends to provide additional warmth and a weight to combat the abnormal feeling of expansion that accompanies the process.”

Dib blinked, his mind seeming to shut down more with every second. “What?”

“It means you need to lay on his back and cuddle him,” Purple said, shoving his way into the frame by flopping across Red.

“What?!” Dib flinched; a wave of heat rushed to his face as he felt alert once more.

“It’s not anything weird, and it really helps,” Red said, shoving Purple onto the floor. “But we’re not going to force you. Anyway, we need to crunch some numbers and get back to running our empire. I still don’t know how that little thing got my personal number, but if you need to talk about this stuff, use this number, not the Massive’s.”

“Got it.”

“Oh, and have Zim plug his PAK into the analyzer FIRST THING when he gets up tomorrow.”

Dib gave one final affirmation before they hung up and left him in relative silence with his thoughts.

Mechanical movements caught his attention and he flicked his eyes over to watch as GIR and EDA, both seeming distressed, running around the bed and trying to lay on as much of Zim as they could as he continued to mumble and complain.

With a sigh, Dib pushed up from the bed, switched on their security system, killed the lights, and took off the excessive parts of his costume before wriggling under the top comforter over Zim. He only cast half of his body over Zim, that one word from Purple making the situation unduly awkward after a summer of pinning the alien down while he slept to ensure no shenanigans ensued while he tried to maintain his sanity.

It seemed as though it was plenty, Zim reacted immediately. With a small sigh, he burrowed closer into the source of heat as his body focused all its energy into the task of growing.

As the silence enveloped them and Dib’s mind once more began to fade, he heard a small, “thanks, best friend,” as sleep overtook him.


	22. Somber Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two days after his first attack, Zim is mobile but in a funk. His meeting with Dr. Maia uncovers some substantial memories hidden away in the Irken's mind.

Monday afternoon saw Zim turn into Dr. Maia’s office. The school therapist watched, trying to hide the frown that spread over her features at what she saw. Zim appeared a good four to five inches taller than the Halloween party two days prior that she had helped chaperone. His pants didn’t fit properly and his shirt exposed his midriff at the slightest stretch or bend. More concerning that the abnormal growth by far was is demeanor. He didn’t call out a greeting or a challenge when he entered the room, didn’t burst in with energy or visible anger, didn’t bound onto the couch, nor was he accompanied by his little robot friend.

What he did do was slink into the office, close the door with a gentle click, and sink into the couch on his side, clutching one of the decorative pillows (his favorite fuzzy one with the dog pattern) to his chest. It was then that he mumbled a bleak hello before returning to silence.

Maia returned the greeting, then also fell silent. Zim was thinking, she could see it in the lines of worry on his face, the way he hid behind the object, and his lack of speech. She had only seen it once before, but it was such a distinct visit that it burned itself into her memory, as did the way he changed the subject and refused to come back to it if she gave him too many prompts to run with.

The analogue clock on the wall _tick, tick, tick_ed out sixty seconds before the pillow was pulled away from his mouth and words escaped.

“You know I’m not a human, right?” Zim asked.

Maia’s eyes widened. Of course, they had figured it out. Zim’s disguise wasn’t really enough to fool anyone who cared enough to look. No one had said anything. He seemed adamantly opposed to and perhaps even frustrated by the fact that he was different than the other students and the number of extraterrestrials that were dropped off in secret on the planet to learn, be fostered, or change their understanding of life was larger than the average person would likely be comfortable with.

Zim was unique in how deep his cover information went. He had managed to get a legal address, a work permit, local phone number; all this while most who strolled through their doors hardly had a suitable cover name or back story.

“Yes, I know. But I’m here for all the students, no matter what.”

“Thanks,” Zim said.

The pinch to his expression fell away as he uncurled his legs, relaxing from the intensity he had been displaying.

“Can I talk about things that happened before I came to Earth? Even if they happened a long time ago?”

“Absolutely, you can tell me as much or as little as you want from your whole life.”

Zim nodded a few times and tossed over onto his back, scratching his ungloved fingers over the plush pillow as he steeled his nerves.

“Zim is not like other Irkens. Many consider Zim defective.”

When he paused, Maia felt she had to ask, “Do you see yourself like that?”

“No.”

Maia was surprised by how absent hesitation was from his answer.

“Zim is not defective, I am different with a special mission. I don’t know what it is yet, but I know I am great and that I will do mighty things for the empire. I don’t like being called broken, though. Especially since I have no answer other than knowing that I’m important and that I can’t die.”

“Can’t die?”

“I mean Zim cannot allow himself to die, I must maintain my life no matter the cost.”

“Okay, that makes sense. May I ask what makes the other Irkens consider you so different?”

“The fact that I am?” Zim replied. After further thought, he explained. “Since my capsule hatching and PAK installment, Zim has had thoughts and desires uncommon to most Irken. I craved emotional attachments, even clinging to the tech around me in an attempt to create what might be a _parent_. I guess? I don’t know, I’ve only learned the concept in a personal way since coming here to Earth.”

Maia felt a pang through her heart, she always felt for the ones without parents; whether they were gone or neglectful.

“The instructors didn’t care for me due to my clinging, and labeled me a problem early on. After my typical instruction period and upon leaving smeethood behind and entering the work practical juvenile phase, I was placed into the science program due to my great mind. That is where I met my Tallests Myuki and Spork.

“My Tallests seemed to understand my greatness in a way no one else did. They never called me defective, they never said I was bad. When I tried to get close and connect with them, they actually listened. They liked what I did and Zim felt… real and not bad.”

Zim buried his face into the cushion and went silent. Maia waited for him, pushing the box of tissues on the table in front of the couch closer to his reach. Just in case.

“Then,” Zim emerged from the pillow, face wet and voice cracking. “Then Zim failed. Zim came in to work after a sleep hour and an instructor gave me a test. It was supposed to be an energy shield. He said it was too advanced for me, but that he was tired of hearing me brag. He was a liar. It was an assassination attempt. My Tallests found out too late to stop me from finishing it and it deployed. It was a matter eradication sphere.”

Zim pulled out one of the tissues to wipe at his face. “Zim is sorry you will have to wash the dog pillow again.”

Maia gave him a small smile. “It’s not any trouble at all. It’s okay.”

He gave a small sigh, readjusting himself into a sit where he pulled up his knees and pushed himself into a corner. “My Tallests… were caught in it. Myuki went first, adding a diffusing substance to the mix that corrupted the sphere. Spork carried me away and took great damage. He fell, and as he bled out, he told everyone that I was innocent and that I was pardoned and to be moved to the combat program instead. He then told me that it wasn’t my fault, and told me… I had to live.”

Zim sniffed and was quiet, leaning his head on the pillow and allowing the story to hang in the air.

Another minute of silence passed before Maia spoke.

“I’m so sorry that this happened Zim. It was cruel and unfair for the assassins to use you to seize power.”

Zim shrugged. “They are dead now. The plans were not destroyed by the sphere so they were able to track them down before I had medical clearance to join the invader program. They were deactivated by the control brains on interplanetary broadcast and dumped into the maw of a Spooch Muncher.”

“You watched it?”

“Yeah.” A cold glint crossed his eyes. “I wanted to watch their destruction, those who stole my Tallests from me with my own hands.”

Zim dug his claws into the pillow, shaking and staring off into the distance.

With such blatant displays of rising aggression, Maia worked to diffuse the situation by redirecting him back to the emotional and thinking side of his issues.

“I can understand, wanting to make sure these people could no longer harm you or those you cared about.”

“Yes.” The sharpness smoothed out of his features as Zim left the moment behind. “They and other anti-empire scum are deleted. Though… despite what I know, and what the late Tallests had said, Zim has often thought that maybe I am too dangerous for the empire.”

“It can be hard to forgive ourselves for mistakes, even if they were not our fault. But does Myuki and Spork’s forgiveness help at all?”

“It does, and even more when it happened. I did not think of it as more than that for a long while. But, Zim is changing. I think my brain is growing with my height? Or it is the fault of the long sleeping.”

The Irken placed his hand to his chin, thinking of which was more likely the culprit.

“Is it normal, for humans anyway, to look back on something you did and think it was a weird thing to do?”

“It is. We are always growing and learning and changing. Our memories and perceptions always evolve using the new information we pick up as we go through life.”

“Is that why, when the dreams started, sometimes it was Red and Purple who died instead?” Zim asked.

Maia skimmed over her notes. “Your cousins with the foreign names?”

“Oh, right, they aren’t my cousins. I made that up. They are the new Tallests. Their names are in old Irken and most of the empire doesn’t speak that anymore. I trained with them in the academy while they reached proper ruling age and height.”

“I see… Well, dreams are things we don’t fully understand yet. The most important thing would be, what do you think it means?”

Zim shrugged. “I don’t know. They weren’t there. When I reached the camp, they were the only ones who knew that I knew what had happened. My first Tallests had also ordered that my involvement be hidden from public. They did pull me aside and ask me what happened when we weren’t training and they weren’t dealing with the regents.”

“And how did that go?” Maia asked as she watched Zim’s expressions.

“Eh, not bad. We are the same age so they were young too. We watched the execution together in a private room after. But… I think now they don’t like me much or they are afraid of me.”

Maia noted his voice sounded abnormally calm and unbothered by the announcement. “Did they say so?”

Zim scratched at the drying lines on his face. “No. But Zim has done other things that are not so good. I was so eager to prove myself that I blew up the home planet during operation impending doom one. There were so many fires. I was so loud and I don’t know how my crew listened to me or why I was doing that.”

“I see…”

“Mmhm. Then my Tallests banished me to Foodcourtia while they worked to clean up the mess. I endured working the grueling hours of fry cooking and bathroom cleaning, but I felt it was so very wrong. Even with my new programming, I knew I wasn’t meant to be there forever. That’s another reason many called me defective while I was there.”

“How is wanting to not be banished or to lift yourself above a fry cook make you defective in their eyes?”

“Because you’re not supposed to be able to question your assignment so much,” Zim admitted. “Most Irkens find it impossible to do things they are not programmed for. Even if they once learned it, their new assigning by the Control Brains will erase or hide the information in our PAKs. But not for me. When the Tallests announced operation impeding doom two, I knew that was more important and stopped being banished to go ask for my assignment.”

“You quit being banished? I wasn’t aware it could work that way.”

Zim shrugged. “I just felt the operation was more important. I do that sometimes.”

“But according to other Irkens, that level of autonomy is strange?”

“Pretty much. Even my Tallests seemed surprised.”

“Interesting. We have to wrap this up soon for the day, but I have one more question. You gave me a reason why you think they should not like you, but what have Red and Purple said or done to prove it to you?”

“Earth wasn’t supposed to exist,” Zim said.

“What?”

“They didn’t know there was a planet here when they sent me. They just wanted me to go away. Maybe they were even hoping I would never come back. They don’t have any interest in Earth as a point of conquest. It’s a very young sector of space; humans are some of the first knowledgeable lifeforms here.”

“Do they still act that way?”

“Maybe not? But they are keeping secrets about this growing thing that is happening. They told Dib about it before me.”

Zim looked at the clock on the wall.

“I should go. Dib has had a not fun weekend too.”

Too many questions to count buzzed in Maia’s head. But Zim was right, and he seemed better than when he had arrived. They said their goodbyes and saved the continuation for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!   
And Merry Christmas Eve, or whatever you celebrate, I hope the holidays are safe and non-hectic.


	23. Midterm Haul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have settled down as midterms approach. They tend not to stay that way for long, and a competition and old wounds rise in the distance, waiting to make themselves known.

“Murg…” Dib groaned and shifted as the world became far too bright.

He threw his arm over his eyes before slowly peeling it back to squint blurry eyed at the red numbers on the clock across the room. Three am. Dib sighed and covered his face again. He could hear the soft scratch of pencil on paper and, even in his groggy state, was able to connect the pieces together.

“Zim, you’re shining that in my eyes,” he said between dry lips as his tongue peeled off the roof of his mouth.

Dib grimaced and reached for a water bottle on the floor beside the bed. It seemed like he would be the one to bring a cold home on the upcoming Christmas break. Though Gaz was sick at Thanksgiving, so it could still technically be her fault.

Zim moved the desk light, pointing it inward towards the back of the desk and leaving his roommate in a low halo of warm light that was much more tolerable. He turned his red eyes towards Dib and gave a few thoughtful twitches of his antenna.

“Sorry. You sound like you’re getting worse,” Zim commented.

“I’m fine,” Dib said with more confidence than he felt. “It’s just because of the time.”

The teen felt the many segments of Zim’s glowing red eyes boring into him. The weight of the stare caused him to rub his eyes as an excuse to block that questioning look.

“And what about you? You’re not going to have another breakdown from missing sleep, are you?” Dib asked.

It had to have been the hundredth time he had asked since the incident. Apart from the week following the Halloween growth spurt emergency, Zim had returned to the sleeping pattern he had before this all started.

“Still no,” Zim said with a dismissive wave. “The only one needing the long hours of rest is you. Until it’s time for another one of those… growth spurts of doom…”

His face wrinkled with distaste as venom filled his voice. Dib felt sorry for this difference between humans and Irkens; their species didn’t seem to have the same ability to push aside or burry excessively painful moments. In fact, something about that instinctive survival drive only seemed to increase the memory.

“What are you working on?” Dib didn’t feel he could leave the conversation hanging on that event. “You’re not messing with your essay again, are you?”

“No, Zim is confident that the seven hours we have poured into it have created a sufficient midterm report. Zim even made it sound more like how your human education system says it should.” He paused, looking down at the blueprint on the table in front of him. “Ideas and plots have been crowding my think space as of late and as My Tallests have paused our assignment until the market buzz has stopped buzzing over our previous successes, I have been piecing my genius together to make room for more greatness.”

Dib gave a half smile. “K, you do that.”

“I will.”

Turning over with a yawn, Dib settled in to drift back to sleep before his midterm test in the morning. As the weight of unconsciousness began to numb his mind, an ever-shrinking voice, so much younger than he was now, shouted protests at the word ‘plot’ and complained about alien dangers. Another, newer, part of his mind questioned why he found it so much easier to trust Zim, knowing what his leaders could possibly do with only a verbal command.

Dib shook off both the thoughts with the much more pressing issue of his upcoming exam and drifted away from his worries.

“There should be a rule that says you’re not allowed to make students do three essay exams in one day,” Dib complained at his locker before lunch as he flexed his strained hand. “I don’t know how I’m going to get through the last one this afternoon.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if you were as great as me and could write with both hands,” Zim said, closing his own locker after putting in his tablet and the folder with the remaining reports to turn in during their afternoon classes.

Dib had a retort prepared, but was interrupted by the arrival of the fringe robotics club leader, Narcís. The boys exchanged a look of questioning and slight apprehension as the senior approached. Since their attendance became more regular after the Zeta incident, Narcís had returned to the cool, elegant upperclassmen that he had been when they met. They had reasoned his attitude shift could be attributed to genuine concern for their safety and grades. But…

“But I get the feeling Ayo doesn’t trust him,” Dib had summarized on the night he and Zim had talked about possibly withdrawing from the club.

Ultimately, they decided that as long as their friend didn’t warn them away, they would stay in and avoid causing the sort of drama that would come from siding with one or the other. Plus, _Hamford_, was in the realist club and Ayo had fallen into a rant on more than one occasion about just how annoying he still was.

“I’m glad that I caught the both of you before you left for the cafeteria. I wanted to share this with you before the end of the day.” Narcís handed them both a paper flier. “Towards the end of next semester, a good week before finals, the school holds a mech competition with the different clubs on campus and from schools around the state. The winning suit gets to travel to the national finals in the summer.”

“Cool,” Dib replied as he looked over the details on the printout he had. “Won’t this involve the whole club though? Why didn’t you mention it on Monday?”

“Normally, I would have mentioned it weeks ago as they tend to have the date set by fall break. But there was some issue with a school district across state. Something about a crackdown over health violations. It only dropped today,” he explained.

“A competition to see the accomplishments of many different youths sounds interesting,” Zim said.

“I thought you might be interested, since the pair of you seem to be primarily motivated by competition.”

“Still mad at us for missing so many meetings this semester?” Dib asked, watching the other’s face closely for any shifts in expression.

There were none to note, however, as Narcís simply replied, “I know this past semester was rough for the both of you, the first one always is. Now that you’ve had the opportunity to adjust, I hope you’ll be back and ready to show off your skill with fresh purpose after break. The team would greatly appreciate it.”

The lunch bell cut them off, sending Narcís on his way to his physical education class with only a tentative verbal confirmation from the others.

“What do you think?” Dib asked as they power walked towards the cafeteria.

“If it’s real, it’s interesting, and a good opportunity to learn more on the state of the competition,” Zim replied. “But it will also bring more _devious worms_ here to potentially raid our ideas. We will have to upgrade our defense EVEN FURTHER!”

“I thought you said you had worked all the bugs out before break?”

“I have. Except for the adorably stupid one who likes to order pizza to the room.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to at least make his stomach a little smaller?”

“I’ll consider it.”

After lunch, gym, and one final, agonizing, written test, the members of Unity filtered into their clubroom for the last time before the holiday. There was no agenda, no work, nothing pressing to complete. Just the final meetup for the calendar year between friends who were willing to take on an alien invasion together to save the planet.

“Hey, Ayo,” Dib said towards the end of their meetup. “Does your club also take part in this yearly mech battle?”

He wrinkled his nose. “How did you know about that? The time just dropped today and we weren’t supposed to bring it up to non-council members until after break.”

“Oh, Narcís told us,” Dib said, handing over his flier.

“Figures,” Ayo replied as he looked it over. “But yeah, it’s real and we’ll all be taking part. Though I gotta say I’m worried for my club’s chances going up against the two of you.”

“Do not be as we have already decided we will not include anything we would not wish to be stolen by others,” Zim said. “It will be an even match, and a good opportunity for research.”

Ayo nodded his head, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he seemed to be weighing his options for a moment.

“Look, I’m not going to bring up past drama, but I gotta warn you; Narcís isn’t a good winner, loser, or sport so make sure he at least _thinks_ you’re trying your best. That one can get under your skin if he thinks you have something he wants, so don’t be afraid to push back HARD if he starts to creep in too far. I’ll be glad when he’s graduated and gone.”

“Got it. Thanks for the warning,” Dib said even has he felt that sinking in his gut. “We’ll pull something together.”

“Yes, we are quite accustomed to the double crossers and their tricks,” Zim said, his gaze far away as he began to scheme. “This semester is promising to be much better than the last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back. Sorry for falling off the planet for a while, but things became hectic around Christmas with family things and colds and work and people at work calling off because of colds... add to that getting sucked into Link's Awakening and Pokemon Shield and I completely forgot to post on my Tumblr that I was going to take a break for a few weeks. ^_^" I do feel bad about it, so I'm going to try being more forthcoming with my ventures from now on.   
I hope you had a good season for whatever you celebrate, and that you all enjoy the chapter! Thank you so much for reading!


	24. Home for Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys make it home and are dragged into an afternoon of family traditions. Zim is surprised to be included and Gaz is definitely not happy to see them at all. Why would you think that?

Gaz glared out the window of the front room of her house on the last Saturday before Christmas. The unmistakable sound of clattering pudding bowls and off-key humming filtered through the air from somewhere deep in the bowels of the home. With a grumble she turned away from the dark, snowy cold and scanned her eyes around the room as her Game Slave lay untouched on the couch.

GIR’s pet pig was snuffing at the bottom branches of the undecorated tree that stood blankly against the wall with unopened cardboard boxes of sentimental ornaments and a plastic shopping bag with this year’s additions crowded around it.

“Watch it pig,” Gaz growled as she gave the animal a warning stare.

It wilted away and back to the pile of vegetables and fruits it had already been given.

Satisfied, and unable to bear the sight of the unadorned tree any longer, Gaz stormed into the kitchen, hoping to sweeten her mood with a snack. On the counter, the unmixed and unbaked ingredients for their typical iced Christmas cookies sat, tormenting her.

Her groan was less angry and more disappointed as she turned away and threw open the fridge. The ingredients for that night’s dinner, chicken and rice casserole, stared back.

“Hey food bot, is it time for dinner yet?” she asked, afraid to look at the clock.

“That’s a no, Gaz dear,” the bot replied. “The Professor set my timer for six tonight.”

The purple haired girl swiped a can of cola before slamming the door shut to prevent any more of the chill from escaping.

Plodding back into the front room, Gaz stopped at the grandfather clock near the foot of the stairs. Mini moose perched on top, an oddity for the floating creature.

“Mehp!” it squeaked.

“You can say that again,” Gaz replied, taking a drag from the can as she watched the slow ticking second hand nudge its companions forward to 3:46 pm.

Drudging forward, Gaz set her drink on the coffee table between the couch and the tv before snagging her game system up so it would remain unharmed as she flopped face first onto the cushions with a flare of drama she usually hid from her brother and Zim.

“Stupid dad, making me wait until the boys get back from school,” Gaz said into the seat. “I _need_ my holiday fix to hold off the darkness and he KNOWS it.”

Ideas of pranks and punishments began to assemble in her mind when she heard a familiar altered station wagon pull into the driveway, perking her face out of its hiding spot.

Muffled shouts between the dull ‘tocks’ of snowballs hitting coats rang out, drowning the attempt being made to calm and redirect them. There were a few quick thumps and a loud _whump_ on the door followed by frantic tugging on the handle that Gaz had dutifully locked when her father had left.

She took her time rolling off her spot and sauntering towards the door. There was no need to seem over eager, or to answer the door looking too pleased to see them so soon after Thanksgiving break.

“It took you long enough,” Gaz said as she threw open the door.

Her words went unheeded as both Dib and Zim pushed frantically inside amid rapid fire shots from a snowball cannon attached to Professor Membrane’s ungloved arm. Swept up in the rush, she found herself dragged into the hallway as the pair sought cover while shouting and laughing manically.

“You both have negative three seconds to get OFF of me!” Gaz shouted, grabbing their attention.

“Oops, sorry Gaz,” Dib said, adjusting his glasses as he straightened himself.

“Yes, apologies to the little Gaz. Though Zim believes thanks are in order for shielding you from the wet icy spheres.”

Zim helped Gaz regain her footing by pulling her upright off the wall.

“Yeah, well it’s the least you could do since it was your fault.”

Gaz cast her eyes over Zim as he scoffed and removed his contacts and wig. Even though she had seen him only a month earlier over fall break, she still couldn’t get over how much he towered over her now.

“Is there something on my face?” Zim asked, head tilting as he noticed her gaze.

“No,” she replied without hesitation. “I was just wondering again how your bones stayed inside your skin with you growing so fast.”

Zim gave a dismissive wave, “Because, Irkens have incredibly wonderful and strong everythings. This includes our skin and bones and organs. We are both durable and very stretchy, good for surviving and unexpected, sudden shifts in anatomy.”

“Uh huh, sure,” she replied. “More importantly, you had both better hurry up and get your things put away because dad FORCED me to wait to decorate the tree until you got home.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, the tops of the boxes were pulled back to reveal impossibly tangled lights, bags of ornaments, and shedding strands of tinsel.

“You helped us with this last year too, didn’t you?” Dib asked Zim as they both sat with glowing clumps of lights attempting to untangle the mess.

“Hmhmm,” he confirmed as he intently pulled and maneuvered strands of the knot. “I was snowed in here after a planned attack failed.”

“That does not seem like it happened last year,” Dib commented.

“I agree.”

Zim gave one final tug and his strand of lights came loose, falling open into his lap as he grinned in triumph.

“How’d you manage to do that?”

“I researched and practiced well into March after you won last year.”

“You would.”

“Whoo hoo! I likes shiny things!” GIR exclaimed as he rode into the room on the back of his pet.

He launched himself off and through the air until he collided into the tree, causing the tinsel to crinkle and the ornaments to shake.

“Hey, watch it,” Gaz snapped as GIR rubbed his face in the branches. “What are you doing, anyway?”

“IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII’m givin it a hug!”

“You’re going to mess it up is what you’re going to do,” she said, grabbing the small robot and pulling.

“NOOooooOOo I wanna help!!!” GIR declared, tears streaming down his face.

EDA, who had been assisting by passing up ornaments out of the box, approached to comfort and distract his friend, causing Gaz to relent. Kind of.

“Fine, if you want to help then let’s go get the cookies started since you’re somehow actually competent when it comes to cooking.”

“Now hold on, honey,” Professor Membrane said as he carried a tray of hot chocolate into the living room. “If you’re going to leave the rest of the tree to the boys then now is the perfect time to pass out this year’s ornaments.”

One final tug peeled the metal leech from the tree as the professor grabbed the shopping bag from against the wall where it sat waiting.

“This one is for you Gaz, it’s a robot unicorn with the blood of its enemies festively painting its horn.”

“Nice,” she replied with a small smile as she took the blue and red decoration.

“And for Dib, a Tesla coil with flashing red and green electric arcs.”

“Cool—ow!” the functioning coil sent one of its red bolts skimming across Dib’s fingers as he grabbed it.

“And now for you: an ornament to match the alien head tees you like to wear so much.”

Zim blinked as the shiny bauble with the words “Phone Home for the Holidays” etched on a strand of ribbon wrapped around the green figure.

“For me?”

“Of course! I was caught off guard last year, but you’ve become such a fine addition to our home since your parents left for ‘vacation’ that I felt it was appropriate,” Membrane said.

Zim took the gift and stared up at the professor, his eyes shimmering red and his childlike round face beaming. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome! Now make sure you all add them to the tree somewhere we can see them. I’m going to put mine here.” He produced an ornament with five painted beakers from the bag; a large white, large brown, small blue, small purple, and in between them was a small green; and hung it towards the top of the tree. “Now drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold and inedible while I find where that pudding fiend got stuck this time to give him his.”

Dib looked at Zim who was staring down at the small treasure in his hand. His antenna were lowered, more relaxed than pressed back, and an emotion was in his eyes that his friend couldn’t quite place.

“Sounds like dad may have figured out that the story of your ‘parents’ being on vacation is bunk.”

Zim blinked and raised his head, his face soft and devoid of its normal mischief. “That’s fine. Lying about something you don’t have gets boring after a while.”

“Well, now you don’t have to worry about that,” Gaz cut in. “Now hang that on the tree and stop being mopey. That tree had better be ready for the star by the time the disaster bots and I are finished baking.”

“Do not be impatient or doubting of the great Zim! With my capable genius leading this operation you have no need to fear!” He grinned, summoning his verve back to him.

“Hey! Who said you were in charge?” Dib demanded while smiling.

“FOOLISH DIB! I have watched enough of your planet’s customs to know that in these matters the oldest takes the lead! And Zim’s older than you.”

He punctuated his statement by sticking his thin tongue out.

“Excuse you, it’s the twenty first century and now training and experience is more sought after than just age.”

“YOU LIE!”

Gaz made a show of rolling her eyes before turning towards the kitchen with the bots in her arms. “Boys.”

“Uh-huh,” GIR agreed with a sassy head nod.

Their deadline was reached with time enough to spare, allowing the boys the opportunity to help ice the cookies and sneak more frosting than was wise for such normally wound up children. After a dinner full of energy and stories of exploits and anticipation, the trio loaded up the turbo dishwasher 6000 and moved their energy to the couch to play Xtreme Fighter- Extra Gore Edition on the television.

As midnight approached, Membrane entered the living room where the repetitive track of the game still blasted. “Now children, it’s time to go to… oh.”

Asleep on the couch in a messy pile he found three children, two robots, a pig, and a tiny moose. He smiled fondly behind the collar of his jacket before turning off the television and throwing blankets over the group.

“Good night,” he said as he turned off the light and headed off towards bed himself.


	25. Pull No Punches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School is back in session after the New Year and no one is holding back. Dib's already in need of his next vacation.

“I trust everyone has brought their best ideas back with them from the holiday break.” Narcís stood tall and peered over the other students in their first Monday afternoon club meeting of the new year.

His ordinary cool demeanor cracked as most of the group of seven, all that remained of the sixteen the club had started with in the fall, shrugged or muttered a half-hearted “kinda” in the repurposed woodshop room. He cleared his throat and shifted his arms to behind his back, hiding the way he wrung his hands as he zoned in on his two primary hopes.

“What about the two of you? Zim? Dib? Do you have any ideas that you want to share? You seem busy.”

Dib looked up from the sketch he had half hidden behind his arm. It was definitely _not_ a set of blueprints for a devise to create the most efficient multi tool device ever after Zim used his _STUPID PAK_ to stick all of his Cryptid Collection cards on the high part of the ceiling over the staircase, but he wasn’t about to let anyone look and tell him it was. More importantly, it had nothing to do with the robotics project that they were planning to hold this semester and with Ayo’s warning still in the back of his mind, he quickly tried to redirect the question.

“Sure, we have a few ideas. But it’s mostly internal… things. So, we’d need to know the overall specs of the frame and what sorts of tools are legal for the match before we can be of much help.”

For a split second, the stern senior looked embarrassed. “Ah, I suppose I never said, did I? Very well, let’s spend this meeting going over the rules, shall we?”

The three juniors who had labored through three years of knowing Narcís and the two other freshmen in the group agreed in a sedate mumble as the mobile whiteboard was wheeled in front of their table. From memory, their club leader began to scrawl the general rules and spec limitations out for them to read.

“Everyone pay attention, I don’t want to have to repeat myself. The mechanical suit has to follow a rigorous set of guidelines to ensure the safety of the operator, including a new this year requirement for a bullet proof pod.”

Zim’s head popped up from scanning two different plans, deciding which he should tackle next to please his Tallests. “Does that mean the school guardians are allowing such projectile weaponry to be placed in the machine? I thought there were legal reasons for minors to be unallowed to use them.”

“Of course we cannot use guns on the suits. At most we are allowed to install non-combat flames and some electrical components. We are allowed to have other weaponized attachments for the demonstrations, but the one on one combat is going to be primarily a matter of an oversized wrestling match. However, I’m sure you’ve had a pressurized bolt snap loose before. The ricocheting metal can be just as deadly as a bullet, and there have been injuries before.”

“Hmm… yes that can cause a human a significant injury,” Zim agreed before returning to his own work.

“Those electrical attacking components are why rubber casing around the operator is also necessary,” Narcís continued. “Now, as for the frame, the entire suit at extended height cannot exceed three stories and the weight must be less than a laden semi-truck. The overall event will consist of accuracy firing, practicality and design, maneuverability—which is another way of saying a foot race—and a free style competition where we can show off any features we please before the ranked fighting competition.”

“Um, does the score for all the events come together, or is it all based on the combat portion,” one of the other freshmen asked.

“It is a combined effort,” Narcís answered. “And while it is entirely possible for a structurally unsound, unfit for combat, excuse of a robot to win the overall competition based on their scores in the other categories, it is a much more satisfying and well-rounded victory if you can win across the board.”

Dib and Zim caught each other’s eyes as the conversation continued on.

Under his breath, Zim muttered, “I think that was one of those things Dr. Maia calls a ‘trauma point’.”

Dib swallowed down a chuckle. “For him or for us?”

The meeting seemed to drag, no one was in the mood for school or club projects so soon after two weeks of sleeping and playing at their leisure. It was one of the times the group was thankful for their leader’s tendency towards the verbose, it was time to dismiss them for dinner one he had finished illustrating even the most inconsequential of rules.

“I didn’t think he’d ever stop,” Dib complained as he and Zim plodded towards the cafeteria with the others. “Do you think we should run those rules by Ayo to make sure he wasn’t lying?”

Zim scoffed. “And listen to the long listing all again? NO! Besides none of the ones who have done this before seemed questioning.”

“Eh, I guess you’re right. Have you come up with which project you want to tackle next?”

“Either this remote takeover devise or the advanced matter repurposer.”

“Matter repurposer?” Dib glanced sideways at Zim while navigating the crowded cafeteria. “What’s that?”

“It’s supposed to take junk things and make them into not junk but on a molecular level.”

“It can change things into other things? Is it some sort of nano technology?”

“Sort of. It breaks down matter into its molecule form and then you can put it back together as something else. It’s designed as a vibration container to thresh them apart with frequency, but adding nanobots wouldn’t hurt and may fix the problem with the constant catastrophic failing.”

Dib watched the way Zim’s wig rustled as his hidden antenna wiggled with excitement as the idea took hold. As soon as their food trays hit the table, a new sheet of drafting paper was out and ideas were pouring onto the page.

“If you combined both ideas, you might be able to use them remotely to mess with your opponent’s weapons,” Dib suggested. “Imagine if we had been able to dump those on the Zeta ships and they turned all their computers into jello.”

“Mmm or turned their thick, spiky skin into limp noodles! Then it would be Zim’s mighty boot that would have created the spinal damage.”

“Huh, I guess you could use it that way too.” A faint look of concern crossed Dib’s features. “But uh, maybe don’t actually do that because it would probably hurt and break seven… no eight interplanetary ethics law.”

“PUNY CHILD DIB! The only law in space is that you win.”

A few of the students around them jumped as Zim slammed his hand down on the table with the declaration. Dib laughed as a flare of embarrassment overtook his friend at the extra attention.

Zim scowled as he regained his composure before declaring, “It would be a waste of time and far too messy anyway, but it would be possible.”

“Right. It sounds like it’ll be a lot of work to put on top of this robot thing. I hope none of our other clubs have anything too wild going on this semester.”

*THUNK*

The students of Professor Steinsson’s class groaned in unison Tuesday morning as they watched their professor drop an unbelievably large stack of papers on his desk.

“Cut that noise out,” the old man scolded. “The school board won’t let us give you a large assignment on your first day back from break, or before the break, so I didn’t. Now it’s the second day back and you can thank them for the missing hours of study time. Each one of you will be writing a research paper this semester based on a topic listed in these packets. I need two of you to pass these out to your classmates while everyone else puts away those tablets from the school and find a pen or pencil if you’re a weak-willed, non-committal type. We’re going to be spending the day going over the expected report length, the writing style, and the expected length and content for the oral part of your report before I drill into you every last thing there is to know about sources and plagiarism. I don’t want a single one of you to pretend you don’t know come the end of the semester when it comes time to dole out your punishments.”

The five teacher’s pets in the front row scrambled and scrapped to be the pair to offer their aid as the first semester hadn’t seemed to drill into any of them that no favoritism was to be had in this rigorous classroom.

In the meantime, Dib slowly lowered his face into his folded arms on his desk. “Why did I have to say something?”

“Aw, does you needs a hug?”

“GIR! What are you doing out of the room?” Zim hissed as he peered under the table.

“I’m bored.”

“The day _just_ started!”

“So much for this semester being easier.”


	26. Journey to the Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim and Dib iron out misunderstandings about their school projects and attempt to sneak peaks at each other's personal projects as well. EDA and GIR decide to do something nice for the boys who seem a little on edge.

“This education system is absolutely unfathomable!” Zim declared as he flipped through his assignment package in up in their room before dinner. “What is this stupid nonsense? They expect us to have time for such in depth investigative journeys?”

Dib found his face scrunching once more, something it seemed he did much more now that he interacted constantly with Zim. “What are you talking about? What journey?”

Zim clicked his tongue and held up his hand, pointing to his report guidelines. “THIS Dib! Human’s scientific advancements through history? And he wants me to classify the information in two different ways and to give a reasonable estimation to how long it will take your puny species to make three ‘advancements’ that are all child’s play for Irkens! And I know humans have no time travel devices! How do they expect me to complete this report?”

Dib blinked a few times while staring in silence.

“Have… have you never READ the history books? Do Irkens not have historical records?”

Zim shrugged. “Maybe. Not that it matters. Whatever we need to know is inserted by the control brains. It’s how it’s always been.”

“I wonder about that,” Dib commented under his breath. “Anyway, you don’t have to go anywhere, just read books and articles online.”

“That’s WORSE! What’s yours about?”

“The scientific method, proof gathering, and reasoning. It’s either a jab at my dad, or he’s trying to compare our answers.”

“Zim thinks this is an elaborate form of torture.”

“At fifteen pages and no less than seven sources, I almost agree with you.”

“And what’s all this style rules and bilbo’s graphy?” Zim held up the format booklet up by one of its pages, letting the rest dangle and flop.

“The _bibliography_ is the list of citations at the end of your report. You don’t need to know more than to keep track of where you get your information from for the early part of the gathering.”

“And it’s due at the end of the semester?”

“Yep.”

They looked up from the guides and at each other. With a unified clack, the boys tossed their reports to the sides of their desk and dug out the blueprints they were busily illustrating.

“How are you coming along with your vibrating nanobots?”

Zim looked over his design as he nibbled on the end of his pen. “Great, I am the magnificent Zim after all!”

There was something else, it hung in the air as a strangled start to a syllable. Dib gave a push. “But?”

“But I can’t decide on a shape or how to make them not do the vibration separation thingy to themselves.”

“Is that why the bigger machine blew up?”

“Mmhm.”

Dib gave Zim a sideways, totally causal glance. “What about using the material your PAK or legs are made from? Those seem pretty resistant. They even seem able to easily counterbalance for your new weight and height which is impressive.”

“It is. But while I agree that they are durable, I’ve had to repair and replace them enough to know it’s not invincible. Though their current design hasn’t failed me so far.”

Dib inched just a bit closer. “So you replace them? Is that how you manage to keep them so well balanced?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know big head monkey boy?” Zim shot a suspicious look over towards the other desk, causing Dib to dart his face away.

“What? are you going to start being sensitive about me asking random questions?” Dib did his best to seem innocent and hurt.

“You know it would still be a better idea to just let me install you with an Irken PAK if you’re going to carry on down your ridiculous path of attempting to match something perfected over eons by our empire’s mighty scientists!”

A bad memory caused him to shudder. “Yeah, here’s the thing, I don’t EVER want to do that again. Also don’t they have to be installed at birth to work properly anyway?”

“Eh, I’m sure there’d be some ways to adjust it since you don’t need one to live.”

“Uh huh. Well, I’ll keep that in mind if I ever want to be the human Guinea pig for testing how to work that into a human’s nervous system.”

“Huh? I already tried it on a Guinea pig. And I used that Nick guy and Keef to test nerve takeover in humans.”

Dib smushed his face into his hand and he felt his eye twist. “Oh yeah. I forgot you also kidnapped humans until the two-week power outage from our storm machine battle let them all escape. Did you ever check in on Nick or the others?”

“Yeah. Nick’s okay. The happiness drill was removed from his brain and he spends a lot of time staring at sponges but other than that he’s pretty normal. So, there is even less reason for you to be a baby and try to make your own PAK with puny human resources.”

“Excuse you, I have access to just as many space things as you AND I have money to buy them now. If you can fiddle with yours, I can make something like it for myself. My way.”

“Pfft. As if. Just wait until you’re crawling back to me like the little worm baby that you are!”

“More like wait until YOU see how much of a great mind I have compared to you who doesn’t even know what his empire was up to before he was born.”

“Uh duh, invading. I thought that was clear.”

“Sure, a likely story.”

“You can’t remember before you were squish born either!”

“Not personally but I actually look over our history homework so I’m not failing like you.”

A series of nervous chirps sounded across the room and under the beds. EDA looked up from where he lay across from GIR coloring, his LCD face drooping.

“They have begun fighting again. Do you think they’ll start to make loud explosions and fire weapons too?”

“Hmmmmmmmm…” GIR contemplated the question as he dragged his stolen sharpie across his face to create a wonky curled mustache. “HMMMMMMMM?!”

With a twitch, GIR flopped back down and began to color once again. EDA was patient, but as clatters and shouts began to fill the air, he wondered if he should ask again.

“GIR?”

“I KNOW!!” The wild bot dropped the ill-gotten coloring devise and slapped his tiny hands on the floor. “Babies gets cranky if they is hUuuUngry. We should feed the babies!”

“UNHAND MY PEN BEFORE YOU GET YOUR STINK GERMS ALL OVER IT!!!” Zim screeched.

“NEVER!”

EDA sighed. “It seems worth a shot.”

“Let’s go! Roll up!”

“It’s roll out…”

No matter the phrasing, both bots snuck towards Zim’s closet and shimmied inside, taking care to open it just enough so the alarm didn’t go off. From there they navigated boxes and devices until they found the small opening they kept covered by a picture of Gary the Mongoose, the official hole guardian. They both recited the secret code before lifting the picture out of the way and ducking out the hole and into the air vent in the floor behind the closet.

“What do you think we should get them?” EDA asked as they trotted along the vents.

“Ice CREAM!!!”

“Oh! That actually sounds good. But what if it doesn’t work?”

“Then you have to CHANGE the babiz diaper!!!”

EDA chirped a giggle. “I don’t think they have those.”

“Well maybe they should!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter gave me a hard time, mostly because work has been insane this week. Thank you for your patience and have a good week!


	27. It's Raining Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise as assignments and expectations mount. A faulty project only adds to the stress.

“Dib, Zim, good evening.”

It was all the boys could do to prevent a groan of exasperation escaping them as the desire to break into a sprint at the sound of that irritating voice tensed their every muscle. It was only Thursday of their first week back and Narcís had managed to corner them every day, this time right after dinner, always asking the same question.

“I thought I might not find the pair of you today.” _But he certainly didn’t take that as a hint._ “Have you given any more thought to our team’s mech? The sooner we have a plan and can submit a budget, the more likely we are to get everything we need to make it!”

Dib cleared his throat and answered with rehearsed precision. “We _did_ find some time between our class assignments and our other club projects to think about it last night. And we have some suggestions.”

“Excellent! What did you think of?” Narcís’ face lost some of its cold, rigid tone.

“Since electricity and sparring are things we have to correct for, we’re planning to bring in a sample spring we've used before. It has a rubber and elastic micro coating that provides advanced insulation and impact control without the big bulky slowdown.”

“I see, that sounds like an excellent addition for maneuverability and safety.” It wasn’t enough. “What else?”

“Zim has an even better offer to bring to the table! It’s a multi-use energy absorbing grid! Any hit the enemy fires in our direction will be converted to power to blast our very own precision pellet launcher which will, with none of the collateral damage, fell any test or opponent!”

“Dude, we’ve been over this. That’s called a gun and they’re against the rules.” Dib elbowed Zim in the ribs over a loud protest.

“The energy absorption tool sounds like a wonderful addition, and provided there is no gunpowder and the pellets are within a specific size range, the type of weapon you described is not against the rules.”

“See, Dib-stink? The MIGHTY ZIM is following all the puny rules. You’re just a big baby.”

“Oh whoopie, you’re technically in the clear.” Dib waved his hands with his fingers spread wide back and forth. “But you’re also actually being boring and still wrong because most of the contests would require too fast a shot cycle for a sniper barrel anyway. We need a multidirectional energy beam to use with the charge grid with tips for blasting fire, electricity, and ice lasers so we can control the type and severity of our attacks.

“NO!” The protest was high pitched and sharp. “You just want to make a mess and be not decision making like an _insolent worm baby_ that can’t decide between two frozen child nutrient flavors and then whines when they melt into a blended soupy mess!”

“You’re the one that melted my ice cream with your stupid side project!”

“Boys! Boys!” Narcís fluidly eased himself between them. “Let’s not lose our heads now. Mistakes happen, and it’s no use fighting over. Nor is which of your good ideas we shall choose. After all, the club will want to vote on something like that.”

Dib slouched down from his tensing stance and shoved his hands in his pocket. Zim remained rigid but crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on his heels. They muttered halfhearted agreements to their upperclassman.

“Very good. Now promise you won’t get into a fight and be banned from clubs again. I know you’ll both feel bad for stressing everyone out like that.”

Dib’s face fell, and he reached up with one hand to rub behind his head. “Right, sorry.”

“Just looking out for the pair of you,” Narcís claimed. “You do both have such great potential.”

They said their farewells and went their separate ways back towards their dorms.

“I still can’t believe you want a _not_ rifle on this thing,” Dib commented as they stepped out into the cold between buildings.

“That’s because my infinitely higher thoughts are incomprehendable to your monkey brain.”

“Incomprehensible.”

“Why do you keep with the objecting to my language? Zim knows how to speak just fine!”

“Tell that to those red marks on your first semester essay tests.”

“HA! These teachers don’t appreciate my genius and the tears from exposure to my brilliance causes them to incorrectly mark my points down!”

Dib laughed. “That’s a whole new level of stretch, even for you.”

Zim grinned back. “Well, my elasticity will come in handy seeing as how this dreaded place decided we need to swim in these _assignments_.”

Dib’s joviality faltered as they entered the dorm and started to climb the stairs to the fourth floor. “Yeah, now I know why they only let freshmen be involved in three clubs. Wish I had known sooner before we let pretty boy talk us into joining this stupid mech one.”

“Why is this even a thing again?”

“To prove the Tesla Academy’s dedication to producing cutting edge scientists and mathematicians with an eye to their global impact and a college ready portfolio to match!” Dib mimicked the school principle’s line from their orientation speech at the beginning of the year.

“Pfft, sounds like an attempt at damage control to me,” Zim said. “Speaking of, I’m not exactly thrilled with the prospects of fringed space and their project.”

“What is it?” 

“Eh, some kind of space probe thing. We’re supposed to work with some other club to make a drone with plants and cameras in it.”

Dib stopped climbing as he felt a few pieces click into place. “Oh! That sounds like what CAFY’s working on. A test rocket to launch into space with as little fuel as possible and also test electricity methods to decide how to best move it through the cosmos. The plants are supposed to be in there to test the windows and artificial gravity.”

“Which is whatever but it’s also supposed to have signal scanners and picture tools. These teachers don’t even like when I sneak off of campus to go to the base, let alone if we get caught going to space.”

“We can put an allowance chip in the system that will make it ignore the cruiser. And after the Zeta incident, I think we could use an early warning satellite that we don’t have to hack into a government to access.”

“Yes, it seems the humans are quick to become paranoid once they have a hint of trouble.” Zim began climbing the final flight of stairs again.

“It’s not paranoid when a group of teenagers was the planet’s sole defense against brain eating zombie parasites.”

“Well then maybe your little species should get good and have a space force.”

“We’re getting there! Also, I promise you there was a time on your planet when they weren’t space invaders, even if it was a million years ago.”

“LIES!”

Zim pushed open their dorm door, breaking the soundproof barrier which allowed screams and beeps of fear assail their hearing. Both boys rushed in and closed the door behind them before anyone else could figure out there was a problem.

Inside, their room as in tatters. Papers were everywhere, items knocked off every shelf, the lights were flickering. And it seemed as if there were patches of sand on every surface. They didn’t have much time to draw that conclusion before they noticed the culprit.

Three minuscule bots shot around the room and bounced off every surface they touched. They whirred and vibrated as they zipped through the air.

“My prototypes!” Zim shrieked, nearly drowning out the cries of EDA and GIR who were ineffectively attempting to stop the assault.

As Zim vaulted across the room to reach his control remote, the little bots trapped one of the nuisences under a ceramic cereal bowl. They bumped and rattled as they tried to hold the destructive nanobot, but all in vain. With a snap, the mite sized bot shot through the bottom of the bowl, leaving a small hole in its wake.

“Hey, you maybe wanna stop this Zim?” Dib asked as the projectile sped past his head.

Zim growled. “The signal to halt function isn’t getting through! The antennas must have vibrated off!”

With an annoyed huff, Dib pulled out his ray gun and with three shots, the noise stopped. Aside from GIR screaming anyway.

Once Zim had managed to calm his little companion, and both were assessed for damage, they turned to gathering information on the items in the room.

“Where did all this dust come from?” Zim asked as he brushed the surface of his desk and looked at the little grains with disdain.

Dib lifted the cereal bowl off the ground, noticing a white powder of the floor beneath it and multiple dings and dents on the inside. “I think they were set to the frequency of soft stone. The bowl, the walls, the ceiling, the floor; it all started to disintegrate.”

Zim pushed back his wig and scratched at his antenna and glared around the room. “Well, that means they were extra faulty if they still broke down. That’s three more failed materials.”

“Yeah, but at least you’re getting closer right? The other ones fell apart before they could do any damage.”

“You have a point… Still, this MESS IS UNACCEPTABLE!!! I’m going to need a nap after cleaning this up.”

“I’ll help,” Dib said. “I don’t want you up cleaning until five in the morning.”


	28. Pizza and Plots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's pizza night on campus and the boys meet up with their friends to compare overwhelming schedules. Stress already seems to be roughing up a few edges.

It was the last Friday in January, pizza night on campus, and the cafeteria was crowded with boisterous teens who never seemed to miss this particular dinner. Away in a corner, in a muted area where the noise of the general population failed to penetrate, a group huddled to converse in a moderately normal tone.

“It’s… *sniff* it’s no FAIR!”

“What’s not fair is you sinking hundreds of dollars a month into the various food establishments in the area,” Zim snapped as he glared at GIR. “You WILL try the device and stop with your whining.”

The small robot snuffed again, tears dripping from his eyes as he opened his front cover and stared at the new installment in his insides. The reduced stomach pouch was rigid and wired into his main chip line.

“Aw, poor GIR! It’ll be okay,” Merle said. “It’s just to try, right?”

He nodded, not giving up on his theatrics, and picked up his one slice of pizza with a forlorn look before stuffing the entire thing in his mouth.

“You know you’d enjoy that more if you took smaller bites,” Rafaela commented.

GIR chuckled around the stuffed mouthful and the other members of the group suppressed groans at the greasy display.

“So, how are you freshmen handling the first step of your papers?” Ayo asked.

“I have all my sources, but I can’t come up with a proper thesis,” Leola said.

Conner nodded. “I have the opposite problem. I know what I want to say but it’s such a niche topic, I can’t find the sources.”

“Looks like we won’t be the only ones living in the library this weekend.” Dib tapped at his tablet with his pinky, trying his best not to get the screen slimy as he worked.

“I always found it curious how your records are still split between digital and print.” Grey was one of only a handful of students who wasn’t bent over his assignments among the ruckus. “Why is that?”

Ricky shrugged. “Some people just like books, man. You don’t even KNOW some people won’t touch computer sources unless they HAVE too.”

Zim scoffed. “That’s stupid and so is having to hand in a half-complete report early. Human insanity will never cease to confound the mighty Zim.”

“Okay, but if the internet was to get knocked out, digital only information will be lost at worst and inaccessible at best,” Rafaela explained. “Having multiple copy types will help to prevent another library of Alexandria incident.”

“Well, Irkens don’t need that.”

“Dude, the Tallests have admitted to losing important information behind a password and wipe lock. If they had a paper backup somewhere, things like that wouldn’t happen,” Dib replied.

“Don’t spread your LIES!”

“Oh dear, is this a bad time?”

Play annoyance boiled into the real deal as that cool, even voice broke into the warm bubble they had created. Dib tried not to look irate or standoffish as he turned his face towards Narcís as he approached.

“What’s up? An update to the rules or something?”

“No, nothing of the sort,” the senior admitted. “I just thought I’d make one more attempt to persuade you to stop by the club room for a few hours this weekend.”

Dib’s mouth opened, but he was beat to the punch.

“Now, I know I’m not hearing you tell these freshmen to put club activities over their reports,” Ayo said, his voice regaining that dangerous undertone it had held the day their alien ship raiding activities had nearly been interrupted. “Because we both know falling behind on the spring report is the number one way for them to be kicked out of clubs for the semester.”

The air temperature dipped to the frost point, or so it seemed, as that small chink in the porcelain façade was irritated. Adjusting his glasses, Narcís gave an uncharacteristic grin and a shrug.

“I was only asking, no need to get into a fuss, dear Ayo. I know we’ve had our differences, but you really do think too harshly of me.”

“Let’s just agree to disagree and save it for competition floor.”

“Very well. Just don’t let me catch you trying to worm information out of my good friends here.” Narcís placed a hand on both Zim’s and Dib’s shoulders. They tensed and shot him a glare. “Most people would consider that cheating.”

“I’m sure you’d know all about that.”

All good humor dried up and a darkness invaded his pale features. “I supposed if that’s the sort of attention I’ll be getting, it would be best to walk away. However, I have the _utmost confidence_ that you will both have no trouble finishing your assignments and working with your hands is a great way to let off steam.”

Narcís bid them farewell and walked off.

“He clearly has no idea who he’s dealing with if he thinks I’ll be able to get this done by the end of the weekend,” Zim grumbled once they were free from the insistent presence.

“Wow, nice self-burn. I guess?” Rafaela glanced up from her own work with concern on her face. “Is there something you’re struggling with that we can help you on?”

“Not unless humans have quantified caring into a doseable medicine. History is stupid and I’m wasting time that I could use on these infernal nano bots.” 

“Don’t worry, at the rate you’re testing materials, it’ll only take you a decade or two,” Dib shot.

“Oh, like you and your not a PAK? Tell me Dib monkey, how are you advancing with your brittle twig scuttlers?”

“I’ll have you know, my latest design lasted almost an hour before failing.”

The rest of the friend circle shot each other worried glances. The pair seemed to be fighting a bit more than usual, with the only time they had come close on campus being right before their donut sky fight. They did their best to watch and laugh it away.

“Don’t Irkens come to their assignments with complex tools that you can use to test more bots at once? Or at least make them faster?” Grey asked.

“Eh… my base has some things, but these teachers have stepped up their finding me leaving game,” Zim replied. “I can’t get off campus to use them.”

“I can maybe sneak a frequency checker out of the AP robotics classroom,” Ayo offered.

“Maybe once we get these papers under control we can help build some of the prototypes to speed things up,” Conner offered.

“Speaking of, what is _our_ group going to do for the project?” Dib asked.

“I was thinking we would just find a practical use for things we already have and call it a day,” Merle answered.

“Sounds good!” Ricky nodded. “Especially since we have so much extra to do already.”

“Like what?” Leola asked.

Ayo’s watch began to beep, causing him to push in a hurry to his feet. “Like guard our robot from Ham and Carl. I swear they’re trying to sneak illegal weapons on and I’m not about to lose to pretty boy because of them.”

He said farewell before rushing away to relieve the current watch until the school buildings would be locked for the evening.

“Well, I guess I should get to the library for a few hours before it closes,” Rafaela said. “Everyone be sure to think about what we can use for the project.”

One by one the group split apart as assignments and other tasks took over their attention until only Dib and Zim were left.

“Seriously, though,” Dib said once they were alone. “Your problem is not including signal dampeners.”

“I know that, but I need to find the metal that has the most unique frequency. Also, you need to use folding legs with reinforced joints, not telescoping.”

“Yeah, I was just trying something different. Do you want to hit up the library or head back to the room?”

Zim scowled as GIR began to whine and rub his tiny dirty hands on anything he could reach. “I’m going to take this one to get the nasty grease off his everything so you can use the library tonight. I’m not in a mood for games.”

“Fair enough.”

They rose to their feet and started towards the tray deposit in the cafeteria. Dib stopped after only two steps as his constantly vigilant eyes spotted something lying on the floor. Snatching it up, he read the neatly scrawled words on the piece of paper.

“Spark to flame converter, fuel releasing subtube, and spike bars for impact zones? This sounds like ways to make a machine more dangerous while passing an inspection.”

“Could that be the terrible pair that Ayo is dealing with?” Zim asked as he leaned in to see for himself.

“Are you looking at the handwriting? Ham and Carl look like they write with their teeth. This has to be Narcís. The question is if he’s helping them get cheats past Ayo or if he’s planning on doing this to our bot.”

“Both sound very not good.”

“Mmhm.” Dib shoved the scrap in his pocket. “One’s worse than the other though. I wish we could just swap clubs with those two and end this nightmare.”

“Yes, but then how would we have the extra playing field?” Zim asked as they started to walk again.

“I wonder if being able to keep an eye on all of them will wind up doing any good if we can’t pull this off.”

“Puny Dib, Zim does not fail! Just follow my lead and we will be ultimately victorious!”

Eyes rolled behind glasses as they exchanged a few more minor quips before pushing out into the cold snowy night.


	29. Double faced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim and Dib are both up to a bit more than they told each other they would be.

Ayo looked up from his tablet when he heard the door to the club room click open.

“Zim? What’s up?” he questioned when he saw who his visitor was.

Zim wore an uncharacteristically solemn frown. “Zim has come upon some intelligence that should be passed along, no matter the attitude of other parties involved.”

Ayo felt his concern mounting. “What kind of intelligence?”

“When getting up to leave the table, Dib spied something that had gone overlooked by the rest of us; a paper with a listing most suspect and devious. It contains components of a conspicuous nature that might be a plan to create a more deadly robot while appearing as normal. It reeks of the plotting of those two insufferables on your team but with the write swirls of our own team’s captain. Zim feels you should know as much as we do.”

“Right. Thanks, but can you elaborate?”

“Hmm… It was talking about collapse points and microscopic fuel line holes near spark to flame converters. Zim thinks it is strange for it to be in your robot as you are the leader and would not fire such things. But perhaps it is a trap for them to disqualify your team? Or perhaps Narcís will simply put it in ours.”

Ayo scratched behind his ear, his other arm folded tight around him as he scowled. “What makes you think I’ll be piloting the mech?”

“Huh?” It was Zim’s turn to look confused. “But the rules state the head of the club has to drive, right?”

“No.” He shook his head. “The clubs are supposed to put it to a vote, but I don’t put it past that stuck up brat to do away with that so he can pilot for his last year.”

Zim narrowed his eyes. “Yes, that IS something he would do.”

Ayo watched the wheels turning in Zim’s mind.

“Hey, did Dib say he didn’t want to tell me?” he pressed.

“Not in as many words,” Zim answered. “Only he has been very… secrety lately. Zim cannot allow for him to get the swollen head on top of its already too biggedness.”

The upper classman sighed and rubbed his face. “Listen, it’s cool that the two of you have your whole rival thing going on, and we’ve all been trying to keep to ourselves about it, but it seems like ever since break ended you two are fighting for real. Is there something more serious going on?”

Zim blinked. “Eh, not really. We’re just not seeing eye to eye on this annoying situation.”

“The note?”

“The way he wants to handle this new foe!” Zim threw up his hands. “Zim cannot understand this human idea of ‘placation.’ Putting on a friendly face and staying quiet seems so stupid when confronting an unpleasant enemy.”

“Are you saying you’ve never heard of playing nice to keep someone’s guard down?”

“Pfft. Of course I have. Zim is not ignorant of the different methods of war and illusion. But Dib doesn’t want to plot OR scheme. Just put up with it until the semester is over. How can I be expected to understand such a lack of nefarious revenge?”

“Look, I hate that spoiled powdered donut as much as the next guy, but Dib has a point.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s not always a good idea to get revenge or to plot someone’s down fall. If we did that every time someone crossed us, the world wouldn’t get very far. It would all be war and fighting. Sometimes, you have to pick your battles.”

“That sounds stupid,” Zim said, crossing his arms. “Why let them get away with it?”

Ayo clapped his hand down on Zim’s shoulder. “Trust me, dude, people like him back themselves into their own punishment sooner rather than later. Let him do the hard work and stay ready to go when it happens.”

Across the school, the evening was progressing in a much more confrontational manner.

“Well, if it isn’t the big-headed alien loving planet traitor,” Hamford said as Dib walked into the library.

Dib groaned. “If it isn’t the slab of bacon and his twitchy shadow. What do you want?”

“I’m not a shadow! I’m just mysterious and subtle. Two qualities that will propel me to the top when it comes to defending the planet from the threats you’ve let into our home!” Carl declared.

“You know, Gaz says you’re my karmatic retribution for being a pain in her butt since forever.”

“Don’t try to distract my associate by petty word games,” Hamford said, stopping Carl from rising to the insult. “We need to talk about the larger issue at hand.”

“What ‘GrEAt EpiPHany’ do you two think you’ve had now?” Dib asked, regretting his decisions for the day. “And hurry it up, I have a paper to research for.”

Hamford turned up his short nose and glared down at the other. “Typical. Playing dumb and attempting to distract from your guilt by trying to seem noble.”

Silence overtook them for a moment, as if the pair expected Dib to suddenly cave to their accusations.

Dib rolled his eyes. “Look, when you two decide you want to accuse me in a straight forward way, I’ll be over in the cubicles looking up the history of the scientific method in different cultures around the world.”

He turned to leave, causing the others to call out.

“Fine, maintain your façade. I’m talking about your supposed friendship with Ayo, the leader of our team.”

“Did you just say supposed?”

“You heard him, nerd!” Carl spat.

“Yes. And don’t act so surprised at the accusation. Really, how you could think no one would notice your little ploy from the get go? Pretending to be so close to an upper classman outside of your own faction. Especially with such an obvious conflict of interests.”

“Yeah, why don’t you hurry up and finish that thought before I go from finding you annoying to finding you a terrible person.”

Hamford gave a disgusted snort and stomped his foot. “How thick can you be? Are you expecting me to believe you haven’t noticed the obvious vitriol between Ayo and Narcís? It’s not even rivalry, just pure disgust and you’re in a prime position to take advantage of the situation!”

“Are you accusing me of telling my team’s plans to Ayo?”

“The opposite, obviously. You’re trying to get our plans out of him,” Carl barked.

“So you’re saying you think he’s stupid.”

“What? No! I’m calling you conniving!” Hamford sputtered.

“Well, that wouldn’t mean anything if he was smart enough not to tell his plans even to a friend. Which he is, by the way.”

“Even so, it’s the fact that you’re attempting to create such an opening that has us concerned.”

“Look, I don’t have time to argue in circles with you two. I’m not trying to deceive my friend, and he’s not dumb enough to fall for it if I was. End of story.”

“You’re ignoring the faction thing we said!” Carl exclaimed.

“Because it’s stupid! You’re a fringe too, how do we know you’re not an inside man trying to upset Ayo’s team score to make Narcís look better?”

“Hey! Thanks to YOU this is my only club this year. Why would I want to lose?”

“You got yourself kicked out of CAFY by being a massive pain. And let’s just say, I have a LOT more in the way of evidence that you two are up to something than you could even make up to incriminate me.”

Silence.

_“I knew it.”_

“Hey, what’s going on over here?” Rafaela pushed her way to the front of the small crowd of distracted studiers who were watching the drama unfold.

She hadn’t noticed right away, having had earbuds in, but she had spied the librarian looking concerned and reaching for the phone and decided to look around.

“These two are accusing me of trying to cheat on the robotics project by being a fake friend to Ayo. I told them I think they’re just making it up to cover their own tracks.”

“Tsk, you’re just a diverting—”

“Enough! The librarian has already called for the security team to come back her up. You’d better sit down and study or scram before they kick you out,” Rafaela declared.

Carl reeled back. “I’m not getting detention again!”

“Don’t think this is over, Dib wad.” Hamford glared at him. “You and Zim both are liabilities and we won’t let you distract us.”

The pair turned and stormed out of the library, undoubtedly planning to annoy someone else until bedtime. The crowd disbursed, muttering and mumbling as they resumed their studying in a rush to complete the assignment meant to ensure they weren’t rushing to complete their essays at the last minute.

Rafaela steered Dib towards the long table of cubical desks to hide from the librarian and any other teachers who came to check on the disruption.

“So, they’re definitely plotting something,” she said.

“Seems like it. Look what Narcís dropped.”

Dib pulled out the incriminating paper.

“This could get dangerous. Are you going to tell the teachers?”

“I thought about it. But it’s not like they wrote ‘secret plan to sabotage the mech competition’ on the list. It could be excused as a private project or research.”

“Good point. So do you have a plan going forward?”

Dib shrugged and rubbed the back of his head. “I’m thinking of just watching and waiting. Now we know what to look for on the robot so it’ll be obvious if something crops up. Plus, this kind of thing is exactly the sort of problem that Zim’s going to try over correcting for so I’ve got to be ready to deal with the fall out from that.”

“Okay, I can’t take it anymore. What happened over break aside from the cards thing? You two have been at each other’s throats since getting back and it’s making the rest of us tense.”

“Nothing happened! I swear. He’s just a pain when he gets like this. Believe me, I don’t have time to play games with him this semester. Once he starts taking the paper more seriously, he’ll snap out of it too.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“Don’t worry so much. It’s fine.”

“If it gets any worse, you know we’re going to hold an intervention and drag it out of you.”

“Fair enough. Now I really need to start finding resources.”

With a nod, the pair buckled down for the rest of their available time.


End file.
